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littp://www.arcliive.org/details/surgeonslogbeingOOabra 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

BEING 

IMPRESSIONS OF THE FAR EAST 



BY 

J. JOHNSTON ABRAHAM 



WITH FORTY-FOUR ILLUSTRATIONS 



NEW YORK 
E. P. BUTTON k CO, 

31 WEST TWENTY-THIRD STREET 
1911 



y 




Tkinted bt 
BALLANTYNE &» COMPANY LTD 
AT THE BALLANTYNE PRESS 
Tavistock Street Covent Garden 

LONDON! 



TO 

MY MOTHER 

IN MEMORY OF HER SON 

W. A. 

AND OF HER GRANDSON 
W. J. O. A. 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER I 

FINDING A SHIP : LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

What started it all : The Pathologist's advice : Concerning " Teeto- 
talers " and others : Liverpool : " Signing on " : The strange 
behaiaour of the " No. I Chinaman " : The home-sickness of the 
Mate : Introducing John Bull : The whole art of conversation at 
sea : The making of a sailor : The smell of the East : The 
ways of the " Heathen Chinee " : Night in the Mediterranean : 
The science of weight reduction : Who is " Jock Ferguson " ? : 
Port Said : Coal, and the Koran pp. 3-39 



CHAPTER II 

THE INDIAN OCEAN 

Night in the Canal : The Ten Commandments : " Belong good Pidgin " 
Love, engagement-rings, and the Tropical night : Perim and 
Delilah : The Chinese New Year : An aside on coal fever : The 
complete art of land-grabbing pp. 43-70 



CHAPTER III 
PINANG 

The pageant of the Orient : 'Rickishaws : An encounter with one of 
the Lost Legion : The fascination of the half-caste : Concerning 
Japanese tea-houses : Malay philosophy : The gentle art of 
piracy : The tragedy of a sampan : Chang Wan Loo and tailoring 
by lightning : A morning climb : The luxury of the Malay bath ; 
Women in the Far East : The unexpected behaviour of the Klings : 
An aside on frock-coats : To the memory of Captain Light 

pp. 73-108 
vii 



CONTENTS 



CHAPTER IV 

ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

At sea again : Malacca, a forgotten city : Singapore, the Pearl of the 
Orient : The " Sew-sew " woman : Pilgrims and typhoid : The 
curious behaviour of the " Donkey-man " : The trouble with the 
German " tramp " : A new use for Stephens' blue-black : The 
Albatross and the Ancient Mariner : Water-spouts pp. 111-133 



CHAPTER V 

FROM NAGASAKI TO MOGI, AND THROUGH THE INLAND 
SEA TO KOBE 

Japan and the cacoeihes scribendi : The whole art of medical inspection : 
The mystery of the one-and-sixpenny umbrellas : The odd 
behaviour of the tea-house woman : Concerning cigars : Coaling d 
la Japonaise : What is " Comshaw " ? : Hissing for courtesy, 
and other topsy-turvities : The coolie and the flour bags : What 
it feels like to be arrested : A Japanese interior : Pilots and the 
Inland Sea pp. 137-172 



CHAPTER VI 

KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO. GOOD-BYE TO JAPAN 

Gurio -dealers and the complete mystery of bargaining explained : How 
" Sono-San " stopped our sight-seeing : The love-charm of Ponta : 
What happened at the " Yadoya " : The infatuation of the Second 
Mate : Concerning the English exiles and " God save the King " : 
The bell of the " Daibutsu " : At sea again : Harpooning a whale : 
A disquisition on drunken pilots : The last night and the little 
geisha girls : " Sayonara " pp. 175-217 



CHAPTER VII 
ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

In the Tropics again : OfE the Philippines : The disadvantages of new 
paint : Opium and coral islands pp. 221-232 

viii 



CONTENTS 

CHAPTER Vin 

JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

The approach to the Garden of Eden : Concerning mosquitoes : Jimi, 
the sampan-man : The Chinaman in Java : On buying sarongs : 
Betel-chewing and " Latah " : A night invasion by th.e sirens : 
On krises : The odd behaviour of the " Treacle Man " : The 
Javanese theatre : Off to Macassar pp. 235-268 

CHAPTER IX 

MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

Concerning antimacassars : How the rajah made his exit from this 
world : In praise of lager : How the Dutch lieutenant spent his 
furlough : Bargaining for mats : How the Chief succumbed to 
the fascinations of Yuki : A divarication on Malays, crocodiles, 
and goats : The invasion of the copra-bug : " Bugis " praus, dried 
fish, and " hocshu " : Duriens : The arrival of the dealers in 
pearls : How we left the hides behind pp. 271-298 

CHAPTER X 

THE RETURN TO JAVA. SASIARANG. BATAVIA 

The fruitless love of the Prince of Boro-Boedor for the daughter of the 
Lord of Mendoet : The gentle art of shark-fishing : Prickly heat 
and the " leading lady " : The startling deshabille of the Dutch 
East Indian lady : An interview with a leper : Cargo-lifting along 
the coast : How we bathed at Petit Trouville, and what came of 
it : Weltevreden : The daughter of Wang-Chu : The ordeal of 
the " Rijst-tavel " : The " horrid memory " of Pieter Elberfelt : 
"Salamat" pp. 301-332 



EPILOGUE 335 



IX 



LIST OF ILLUSTKATIONS 

To face page 

Dropping the Pilot 12 

Tangier 12 

03 the Spanish Coast beyond Gibraltar 26 
" The Great Statue of Lesseps pointing with Outstretched Arm to 

the Canal his Genius had made possible " 26 

Port Said, with the Suez Canal Offices 34 

Dahabeeyahs at Port Said 34 

The Suez Canal 42 

" Deservoir, the Last Station before the * Bitter Lakes '" 42 

" ' Madame ' was its Name " 48 

A Canal Station 48 

Riff Pilgrims for Mecca on Board Ship, Suez 54 
Rifi Pilgrims having their Heads shaved before landing at Jeddah 

for Mecca 66 
Jebel Tier, an Island in the Red Sea used as a Post Office during 

the Abyssinian War 66 
" The Malay is, of all Things, a Philosopher. He squats in the 

Warm Sun and chews Betel contentedly " 78 

Moat of the Old Fort, Pinang 78 

Coolies unloading Cargo 94 

" Sew-Sew " woman 94 

Malacca under the Dutch 114 

" In the Teeth of the N.E. Monsoon " 128 

Hong Kong 128 
" Nagasaki lay spread out on the Slope of the Mountain before us 

—a Mass of Roofs " 138 

A Street in Nagasaki 138 

Looking down from the Ship into the Coal Lighters at Moji 152 

xi 



LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS 

To face parje 
" She saw me in the Act, and immediately demanded a 

' Comshaw ' " 152 

The Nunobiki Falls at Kobe 168 

Hari, Ponta 180 

A Corner of the Temple at Shiba, Tokyo 194 

The Shiba Temple, Tokyo 194 

TravelUng Mendicants 210 

Priest at a Temple Gate 210 

Chinese Tally Clerks checking Cargo 226 

A Catamaran 226 

Heaving the Lead going into Soerabaya 240 

" Occasionally a Barge would come lumbering down " 240 

Chinese Temple, Macassar 256 

Roof of the Chinese Temple, Macassar 256 

Fishermen's Huts on the Sea-shore, Macassar 272 

The " Old Man " and the Chief at Macassar 272 

A Bullock Wagon, Macassar 290 

A Water-cart, Macassar 290 

The " Passer " at Tanjong Priok 312 

" Further round two Women were dredging for Crabs " 312 

A Wayside Temple 330 

A Bamboo Raft going down a Creek, Tanjong Priok 330 

For a considerable number of these illustrations I am indebted 
to the courtesy of my friends, Mr. J. S. Joly, Captain Barber, and 
Mr. J. Withers. 



Xll 



CHAPTER I 

FINDING A SHIP : LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

What started it all : The Pathologist's advice : Concerning 
" Teetotalers " and others : Liverpool ; " Signing on " i 
The strange behaviour of the " No. 1 Chinaman " s The home- 
sickness of the Mate : Introducing John Bull : The whole art 
of conversation at sea : The making of a sailor ; The smell 
of the East i The ways of the " Heathen Chinee " : Night in 
the Mediterranean s The science of weight reduction : Who 
is " Jock Ferguson " ? i Port Said 5 Coal, and the Koran 



CHAPTER I 

When the Pathologist discovered what was the matter 
with me, I think he felt it more acutely even than I did, 
for I had had an inkling that something was wrong 
for weeks before I asked him to overhaul me, and it 
therefore did not come as so much of a shock to me 
when he diagnosed what I had already shrewdly guessed. 

We had been through a lot of things together, and 
so the discovery distressed him very much. 

" Of course it means you'll have to go away," he 
said. " I don't know how on earth I'll get along 
without you." 

The Pathologist and I are supposed to share a flat. 
As a matter of fact the place is dominated by the Patho- 
logist's impedimenta : a microtome, two incubators, 
bottles of every shape and size — mostly with German 
labels — flasks, two microscopes under bell- jars, bundles 
of slides and boxes of coverslips, test-tubes, and Petri 
dishes, books and monographs, on chairs, on the table, 
on the floor — anywhere. Any space not occupied by 
these the Pathologist and I share. I made a firm stand 
a year previously when he suggested keeping four 
" control " guinea-pigs in the flat — that I decided was 
too much. 

The day after the examination, when we were sitting 
over the fire at night, smoking our last pipes, he said : 

" Well ! Have you decided anything ? " 

" I don't know what to do," I answered. 

3 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" What you want," he said sharply, " is to get away 
from all this sort of thing," waving his arm round. 
" You want to get clear of this atmosphere of ' wounds 
and bruises and putrefying sores.' You Want to do 
nothing but eat, drink, and sleep — in fact, you want 
to play the complete cow and chew grass. In polite 
society, I should say go for a ' rest cure,' but you know 
what I mean." 

" But who's going to pay for all this ? " I said 
dolefully. 

" Ass ! It's a ship you want." 

It was curious. I had never thought of that, but 
it was obviously the right thing. I felt my depression 
melting like mists before the morning sun. Of course, 
that was it. A ship. I had always wanted a ship, 
but circumstances had never seemed favourable. So 
many seemingly important things were ever pressing 
that the idea, once strong, had gradually faded to the 
shadow of a dream. Now grim necessity had settled 
it. The important things seemed somehow to dwindle 
into nothingness before the spectre we had raised. 

A ship. Already my spirits began to revive. 

" You've hit it, old man," I said with conviction. 

" That's better," he answered with a satisfied smile. 

We got a Daily Telegraph, and commenced to go 
through the list of shipping companies. Tacitly we agreed 
that only boats going to the Tropics were suitable. 
A kind of reaction-hilarity took possession of us. The 
very names of the ports of call were as good as a volume 
of Kipling on that drear November night. We forgot 
the rain outside, the sloppy London streets, the taxies, 
the hooded hansoms, and the motor-'buses crowded 
with damp humanity. In our minds we were sailing 
over a moonlit summer sea, along a darkly outlined 
coast, with palm-trees sharply silhouetted against a 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

sky of palest aquamarine, and the indescribable smell 
of jungle vegetation coming to us on the land breeze as 
we hung idly leaning o'er the rail. 

*■' Now, which of these should I apply to ? " I said. 

" Try them all, and any more you can find," said the 
Pathologist. 

Next morning I went into the City, to find, like 
Columbus, that I had got into a new world. It was all 
very strange and different. Imagine some one who has 
been accustomed to working only with a certain class 
of mind for years, who has merely to mention his name 
amongst that class, whereupon he is looked up in the 
" Directory," labelled, and judged as to capabilities to a 
nicety — in short, some one whom the expert eye immedi- 
ately recognises as the correct wheel or rod or lever for 
a certain position, great or small as the case may be, 
in the great scientific machinery of London hospital 
life. Then imagine such a one suddenly finding him- 
self in the position of having to seek a post from some one 
whose occupation for years has been overseeing bills of 
lading, thinking of insm-ance risks, watching markets, 
and discussing rebates with turtle-fed directors. It was 
like talking to some one in a foreign language. 

I was asked was I a teetotaler, could I speak German, 
what companies had I been in before, had I a Discharge 
Book, and again was I a teetotaler ? They wanted to 
know could I organise concerts, did I understand music, 
could I give references to two people of recognised 
position in Society, was I a British subject, had I an 
English qualification, and again was I a teetotaler ? 
There were no questions as to my scientific abilities — 
that seemed to be of no consequence — but was I a 
teetotaler ? All of which gave me furiously to 
think. 





THE SURGEON'S LOG 

In a vague sort of way I began to feel as though I had 
descended in the social scale. Apparently ships' sur- 
geons were not drawn from the highest ranks in the 
profession. 

Was I a teetotaler ? 

The sum total of the first morning's impressions was 
distinctly depressing. It seemed there was no great 
demand for ships' surgeons. One person asked me how 
much I was prepared to pay for the round trip. I stared 
at him, and rapidly took my departure. He had my 
address, however, and next morning I had a letter from 
him offering me a housemaid's wages, should I care to go. 
I ignored that letter. Afterwards when I came to know 
the sea and shipping, I discovered that that company 
paid no dividend to its deluded shareholders, but sup- 
ported a baronet and a Jubilee knight in affluence — ■ 
men who had risen from nothing, and now gave away 
large sums annually in charity. 

Which thing is a mystery. 

Another individual seemed to be quite eager to have 
me. That made me wary. I was beginning to " know 
the ropes." Inquiries led me to discover it would be 
part of my duties to vaccinate some thousands of 
Portuguese immigrants before they could land at certain 
South American ports. When I inquired how much 
extra I should get for this, I was told it was all in the 
day's work. In addition I found out that cases of 
yellow fever, small-pox, &;c. — anything likely to detain 
the ship in quarantine — it was suggested, should be 
signed up as " Malaria," or something else innocuous. 
In other words, I was to perjure my professional soul, 
in addition to working overtime, for the wages of a 
street-scavenger. 

This person also asked if I were a teetotaler, but 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

only in a half-hearted sort of way, as if that were too 
much to expect. I informed him I was a dipsomaniac, 
and left. 

Some companies I went to had no vacancies for 
months ; others I found required uniforms which would 
absorb six months' pay, and compelled their surgeons 
to supply themselves with instruments which may have 
been used in the time of Nelson, but had been anti- 
quated ever since — instruments which, however, an 
omniscient Board of Trade still required ships to carry, 
and the companies had managed somehow or other 
to squeeze their surgeons into paying for themselves. 

Eventually a man I met in one of the offices put me 
on the right tack. 

" Why should you bother with passenger companies 
at all ? " he said. " What you want is a ship bound 
East, a ship with no fixed itinerary, which may be 
away four, six, eight months, whose course is not known 
once it has discharged its outward-bound cargo. It's 
got to be a big ship v/ith plenty of space to be comfort- 
able out East, and one belonging to a good company, 
otherwise the food will be poor. You'll not find such 
a company in London." 

" Where then ? " I said. 

" Liverpool's the place ! London's not in it with 
Liverpool when it comes to shipping ! " 

So it was, as the result of much inquiry, several letters, 
and a hasty personal interview, that one winter's after- 
noon some weeks later I found myself in Liverpool in 
response to the following summons : — 

" You are hereby appointed surgeon to the s.s. 
Clytemnestra. The vessel will sail from Liverpool 
on or about the 12th Jan., and you will please, unless 
otherwise notified, arrange to attend at the Birkenhead 

7 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

shipping office at 10.30 a.m. on the 10th Jan. to sign 
articles for the voyage. 

"I am, ^c, 

" Medical Supt., 

" S.S. Co." 

• Liverpool is frankly a jumping-oif place for any- 
where, and the people are not ashamed of it. The place 
lives and moves and has its being in ships and shipping. 
Everywhere one sees the signs of shipping companies, 
and all the trams seem to run to the pier -head. 

It is impossible to avoid ships and shipping in Liver- 
pool. One might be in London for years and then not 
discover it was a shipping port ; but in Liverpool every 
one talks " ship." Half the population in the streets 
seem to have a rolling gait. In the cafes the pretty 
waitresses ask what company you belong to when 
they have seen you twice ; and at the music-halls the 
" artistes " invariably sing songs purporting to be 
of the sea as encores. 

The sailor is the real king of Liverpool. Everybody 
in Liverpool loves the sailor, and is only too anxious 
to show him how to have a good time and spend his 
money while he is ashore ; and it is he is the great man 
there till he has spent it. 

Then he goes to sea again to earn more. 

At the old-fashioned hotel in Birkenhead where I 
was advised to stop, again the flavour of the sea was 
very much in evidence. A picture of a full-rigged ship 
sailing over carefully regulated waves was prominent 
in the hall. Faded photographic groups of officers in 
the Mercantile Marine adorned several of the public 
rooms. Curious shells and corals formed the usual 
mantel ornaments. I walked into a room which I 
thought was public, to find I had invaded the den of 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

an old retired sea-captain. Every one knew I was a 
ship's surgeon, and took a friendly interest in me, 
which, to one used to the distant service of city cara- 
vanseries, was at first almost embarrassing. My pale 
student complexion and general washed-out appear- 
ance, I discovered afterwards, had been put down by 
them to malaria. They were used to wrecks of men 
returning from the fever-zones of the Amazon, West 
Coast, and the Malay Archipelago. 

Scotch engineers, Welsh mates, captains of sailing 
ships, their wives and daughters, made up the hotel's 
clientele. 

Every one and everything was very intimate. The 
Welsh " boots " and general factotum was a mine of 
information on all things nautical. I drew upon him 
continually. The morning after my arrival he gave 
me minute directions how to find the " Shipping Office " ; 
but of course I went wrong, and after wandering a 
devious way amongst dreary-looking buildings, past 
scrap-heaps of old iron, and broken-down boats, over 
railway lines, till I thought I was utterly lost, it was a 
corresponding relief when I suddenly came on a building 
labelled " Mercantile Marine Office." 

There was a crowd of men hanging round outside, 
several boys, and a decrepit old fellow in uniform, with 
a Board of Trade badge on the collar of his coat. The 
lounging crowd of men made way for me, and I found 
myself in a bare sort of office, with a long counter at one 
side and a railed-ofE place at the upper end. An 
American stove stood in the middle of the office, and 
gave out a feeble wave of heat. All round the walls 
notices to mariners, warnings, regulations, &c., were 
stuck up. Two young clerks sat on stools behind the 
counter, taking no notice of any one, and apparently 
having some great joke between themselves. Nothing 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

seemed to be going to happen. I walked aimlessly 
round the room, staring at the notices. A youngish, 
fair-looking man stood at the stove warming his hands. 
Our eyes crossed. 

" Excuse me, are you the doctor ? " he said. 

I confessed. 

" Pleased to meet you," he said. 

I answered rather uncertainly, not knowing whom 
I had got. 

" First voyage ? " he queried. 

Again I confessed, feeling amateur was written all 
over me. 

Just then there was a noise outside, and another man 
came hurrying in, and went behind the counter. After 
him the whole crowd strolled leisurely in. The two 
clerks woke up. One of them yawned. My new 
acquaintance nodded at the man who had come in. 

"That's Mr. Thomas," he said. 

I felt my ignorance. Doubtless the remark was 
illuminating, but I was none the wiser. I liked the look 
of Mr. Thomas, however. One of the clerks looked over 
at me. 

" Are you the doctor ? " 

I admitted it, and he rushed away, and brought a 
" Medical Register," looked me over, asked my name, 
looked it up, asked my address, looked that up, looked 
me over again, and finally appeared to be satisfied. 
Then he collected a pile of documents together. Every 
one was now assembled, and at a nod from Mr. Thomas 
he began to read in a monotonous sing-song voice from 
the document before him : — 

" . . . s.s. Clytemnestra, bound from Liverpool to 
Yokohama, and {or) any other port or ports within the 
limits of 72 degs. N. latitude, and 65 degs. S. latitude, 
trading to or from, as may be required, till the ship 
10 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

arrives at a port, or final port of discharge, in the United 
Kingdom, or Continent of Europe, between the River 
Elbe and Brest, for a period not exceeding eighteen 
months, as the Master may require. . . ." 

I was listening intently, but, looking around, saw that 
no one else was paying the least attention. It was all 
the same to them v/hether they " signed on " for San 
Francisco, Sydney, or Shanghai. It was a tvvdce-told tale 
to them. And truly it mattered little whether they 
listened or not, for from, the wording it v/as obvious 
we might legally be sent anywhere a ship could sail. 

The sing-song voice seemed to act on them like a 
soporific. It went on indefinitely, reading more and 
more rapidly and indistinctly. 

Suddenly it stopped ; and then in a natural voice the 
clerk said : 

''■ All members of the crew to be on board before mid- 
night on the 12th Jan." 

This seemed to be the part they were waiting for. 
They all woke up. " Twelve o'clock Saturday night, 
mates," said some one. The rest nodded. 

" Get ready to sign now," said the clerk briskl}^ 
" Officers first." Some one signed. Then the clerk 
said : 

"You, doctor ! " and pointed to a column. In five 
seconds I had signed away my liberty for eighteen 
months, agreed to abide by a mass of regulations I did 
not understand, and to sail on a ship I had never seen. 

]Mr. Thomas appeared suddenly then to become 
aware of my existence. 

" How are you, doctor ? Happy to meet you." 

We shook hands cordially, and still I did not know. 

Apparently that was all. The long queue were 
signing as I passed out. I had become a " seaman," 
a person whom the Board of Trade made elaborate 

11 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

regulations for, passed Acts of Parliament to protect, 
devised penal codes to punish, and other laws equally 
stringent to save from the rapacity of " owners." 

It was my duty now to report myself to the Liverpool 
office. 

A wooden-faced clerk took my name, asked me to be 
seated, and telephoned to the department. 

Doors opened and shut, people came in and out, 
clerks popped heads through compartments and 
answered questions. I watched it all in a detached 
way. It did not concern me. Presently there was an 
irruption. 

A little wrinkled old Chinaman in full dress of cere- 
mony—black skull-cap, carefully braided queue, wide 
black alpaca jacket and trousers, and black silk shoes 
with thick white soles — came into the office and 
marched straight to one of the compartments. For the 
first time in my life I heard " pidgin " English. Up to 
then I had thought it more or less a product of the 
novelist's imagination ; but here it was in all its native 
impurity. 

" Belong No. 1 Clytemnestlla. I wanchee pleeceman," 
he said. 

The clerk behind the counter smiled. 

" All right. No. 1, what for ? " 

" Two-thlee piecee men makee talk, lun away allee- 
same one piecee," he said ver}' earnestly. 

The clerk tried to look grave. 

" And you want a policeman to keep them from 
leaving the ship ? " 

The No. 1 nodded, and Just then my friend of the 
morning — Mr. Thomas — came in. He looked at the 
No. 1 and then at the clerk. 

" Vfhat's our No. 1 up to ? " he said. 

" Says some of your Chinamen want to break ship, 
12 





l)i;()PIM.\G I'lIK riLoT 

Tlio IMlDt swung down tlic ladder, wnited for the swell tn rise, and drojiped 

ne-itly into llie boat" (See p. 18) 



y 



■i'AX(;ii::i: 



i LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

and comes here to ask us to get a policeman to stop 

them, Mr. Thomas." 

■ The No. 1 nodded in confirmation. 

" All right, No. 1 ; pleeceman come to-night. 
Maskee," said Mr. Thomas. 

But the No. 1 was not satisfied with that. He knew 
if any of his crew escaped he would suffer in pocket ; 
and when a Chinaman thinks his dollars in danger he 
is difficult to satisfy. Eventually they had to take 
him into an inner office and relieve him of all 
responsibility. 

In the meanwhile Mr. Thomas came over to me. 
" I suppose you're waiting for old Farquharson, 
Doc. ? " he said. 

Then, with the characteristic, naive, ever-present 
contempt which the man of his hands always has for 
': any one or anything pertaining to the art of the scrivener, 
he added : 

I "I hate coming to offices. They're bothering me now 
about some hides lost at Macassar last voyage. It's 
annoying when you want to be at home every minute 
you can before you sail." 
\ I caught at the last half of his sentence. 
I " Then we sail together ? " I said. 
j He laughed. " Of course ! You didn't know then 
ji that I'm Chief Officer of the ship you've ' signed on ' 
I for?" 

" I'm jolly glad to hear it," I said. He 
I nodded. 

I " Well, since we're on the subject, here's another of 
[your shipmates, the Chief Engineer," he added as a 
! large rubicund figure appeared in the doorway, and 
I came over smiling to us. 
; " Mr. Plalahan — our new Doc." 

Mr. Halahan said he was " pleased to meet me " 

13 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

in a strong Belfast accent that my heart warmed to 
immediately. 

• • • • • 

I went on board finally the evening before we sailed. 
It was close upon midnight, A solitary policeman at 
the dock gates directed the cabman, pointing to the far- 
off oblong outline of a shed black against the glare of the 
great arc lamps beyond. 

" They're loading still. Good night, sir ! Thank 
you ! Pleasant voyage, sir ! " 

In the morning I was awakened by a steward tapping 
at my door. He had brought my morning coffee. 

" What time would you like your bath, sir ? Doctor 
usually has it at seven bells." 

" All right. That'll suit me," I said composedl}^ 
successfully concealing, I hoped, my total ignorance of 
what " seven bells " meant. 

Later, as I stood watchmg the long line of docks that 
in the morning mist represented England, I heard a 
voice at my elbow. 

" We're leaving God's own country, Doc." It was 
the Chief Engineer, who had come up from below as 
soon as we had got clear into the Mersey. He had a 
piece of " waste " in his hand. An engineer is never 
quite happy unless he has a piece of " waste " or a 
" sweat -rag " handy. 

" I'm always glad to get back, and I'm always glad 
to get away again," he said. " Queer, isn't it ! When 
you're in the East you feel sorry for the poor devils 
who have to live there, and know they envy you the fact 
that you soon will be homeward bound. When you've 
passed the ' Rock ' [Gibraltar] you count every hour 
till you've sighted England. When you've been home 
a few days you begin to dread the thought of leaving 
again so soon, and make up your mind to look out for 
U 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

a shore billet at once. But you never do take that shore 
billet. When you've been home a fortnight, and have 
seen your mother and one or two other people that 
matter, you begin to feel restless again. You want the 
sun, the sky, the vivid colours, the long calm days at 
sea, the quiet of the deck, the regular monotonous sound 
of the screw — you ache for it all again, you want the 
Oriental deference you have been accustomed to, you 
want — you don't know what you want, but you do know 
you want to get out of England. You laugh at your- 
self after a few voyages, but it's got into your blood 
by then, and you can't help yourself. You're ruined for 
shore life. You'll know all about it when you come 
back. Doc." 

We were leaning on the rail, looking for'ard. 

" Just look at Thomas," said Halahan (whom I shall 
call the "Chief" in future); "he's coming aft now. 
Everything is wrong with him this morning. Home- 
sick. Young wife. A sailor should never marry." 

Certainly Mr. Thomas was in a pessimistic mood. 
He stopped on his way to us to make some disparaging 
remark to the bo'sun. 

" Call himself a pilot," he said, apropos of nothing, 
coming up to us from the main deck. " He's let that 
Shire boat and the Circe through in front of us. The 
Circe thinks she's faster than us. Now he's given her 
two hours' start." 

" Pilots," he muttered, " think they own the earth. 
You bring a ship all round the world in safety, they 
take her up the Mersey, and then claim credit for 
the whole voyage." 

The Chief laughed. " All mates, and most ' masters,' 
can't stand pilots," he said to me in a stage whisper. 

" How would you like a stranger coming down and 
messing about in your engine-room ? " retorted the mate. 

15 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" I should tell the No. 1 greaser to pour oil over 
him till his bearings cooled down," he answered grimly. 

" H-m. We can't tell the quartermaster to throw 
him off the bridge — worse luck. That's where you have 
the pull over us." 

" Mr. Thomas ! " came a voice from the bridge-deck 
above. The mate straightened up sharply. 

" Yes, sir ! " he said, and disappeared up the ladder. 

" That's the ' Old Man.' Have you seen him yet ? " 
said the Chief. 

" No," I answered. 

"He's all right," he said simply. It is the greatest 
commendation one sailor can give another. 

A burly form came down from the " bridge-deck 
above, followed by the mate. I had never met John 
Bull in real life, and, though I was familiar with him 
in political cartoons, had come to think of him as 
rather a mythical person — a creature of the imagina^ 
tion. It was therefore somewhat of a shock to meetl 
him face to face, disguised as a captain in the Mercantile 
Marine. Instead of a curly-brim.med silk hat he wore 
the company's regulation cap. I looked for the Union 
Jack waistcoat. It was not there. But the one that 
was, covered an equally expansive chest. The top 
boots were absent, as was also the hunting crop. I 
regretted the top-boots, but penetrated the disguise 
at once. 

The mate presented me. 

" This is our doctor. Captain Tucker." 

He nodded. It was just the sort of nod John Bull 
would be expected to give. It meant : "I don't 
quite know what sort of fellow you are yet, but if I 
make up my mind to like you I don't care what any 
one else says about you." 

" Can't make your name out. Doc," he said. " You 
X6 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

write such a confounded bad hand, dashed if I could 
read it in the articles." ' f 

I confessed the name my father had saddled me 
with, and apologised for my cryptic handwriting. 

" It's part of the training of a doctor to write badly," 
I explained. " A prescription is a mysterious enough 
thing in itself, but when it is written by a first-class 
bad hand, like mine, it becomes a talisman." 

His eyes twinkled, and I felt we had got en rapport, 

" Oh, that's it," he said, and passed on into his cabin. 

On the bridge the quartermaster struck " one bell." 
On the f o'castle head the man on the look-out repeated 
it. A few seconds later the second steward appeared 
at the companion hatch and violently rang a hand-bell. 

" Breakfast," said the Chief. " Come on, Doc," 
and he led the way below. 

At the mess-room door we paused. The captain had 
not yet entered, and I discovered it was etiquette to wait 
until he arrived. It was the first glimpse I had of the 
majesty of the " master " of a ship, representing as he 
does the King, the Law, and the British Constitution 
on the high seas. 

Presently he came, and took the head of the table. 
My place I found was on his right, opposite the mate. 
The other officers had places further down. The 
engineers, with the exception of the Chief, who 
dined with us, had a mess-room of their own. I looked 
round curiously to see the place that was to be our home 
for the next six months, and wondered how we should 
all get on in the enforced intimacy so unavoidable on 
a ship. 

Half an hour after breakfast I was just finishing 
my last letters, as I found it would be the only oppor- 
tunity we should have until we reached Port Said, when 
I heard a voice coming down my ventilator : 

B 17 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Hurry up, Doc. The pilot's going. Got your 
letters ? " 

I rushed on deck to find we had slowed down for a 
steam-tug which was rapidly approaching us on the 
starboard bow. Presently she sheered off a point, and 
a boat putting out from her drew alongside. One of 
our crew caught the rope thrown to him, the pilot swung 
down the ladder, waited for the swell to rise, and dropped 
neatly into the boat. Away he went with a wave of his 
arm to the " Old Man " on the bridge, down came the 
pilot flag, the ladder was hauled up, and soon the boat 
and tug were dancing specks in the wake. 

" Now we've got the ship to ourselves," said the 
mate with a grunt of satisfaction. 

After " tiffin " I went on deck again. On the bridge 
the second mate walked stolidly to and fro. Close to 
me two Chinamen, black with coal-dust, clad in thin 
blue dungaree, each with his pig-tail rolled in a tight 
knot behind, and with his bare feet hooked in wooden 
sandals, dumped ashes down the shoot into the sea, 
accompanying each heave with guttural cries. On 
the fo 'castle head the man on the look-out tramped 
steadily backwards and forwards. The rest of the ship 
seemed dead. No one was about, and the cold soon 
drove me below again. Here again everything was 
still. I looked into the cabin next to mine, to find the 
third mate fast asleep. It was his watch below, and 
he was taking advantage of it to get as much sleep as 
possible. As for me, I had no watch to keep, no night 
bell to rouse me in the darkness, no ward telephone 
to bring me, half wakened, half clothed, in the small 
hours of the morning to watch the last agonies of the 
dying in the dim-lit long white ward, where shrouded | 
figures slept in rows, unconscious of the shadowy wings 
of Azrael hovering over them. 
18 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

Snuggled down on my settee, the chant of the screw 
came to me with a faint monotonous regularity infinitely 
soothing. The water swished mm'murously alongside, 
like a lullaby in an unknown tongue of liquid vowel 
sounds. The peace of the sea fell over me as with a 
mantle. Time melted into nothingness — to-day, to- 
morrow, yesterday. Time ! Wliat was time ? 

The entrance of the steward woke me. He had 
brought my tea. My book was on the floor. There 
were sounds of movement overhead, of feet shuffling. 
A rough staccato voice said : 

" Relieve the wheel, and look out ! " 

It was the " watch " changing. Presently the 
shuffling died away, and the monotone of the screw 
slipped again into the unconscious rhythm of life. An 
interval elapsed, then sounds came again. The third 
mate had wakened and was singing softly, for company, 
to himself : 

*' Oh, WMsky made me pawn my clothes. 
Whisky, Johnny ? 
Oh, Whisky gave me a purple nose. 
Whisky for my honey. 

Oh, Whisky killed my poor old dad. 

Whisky, Johnny ? 
And took away all the sense he had. 

Whisky for my honey." 

A hoarse voice here interrupted him. " One bell, 
sir ! " 

It was the quartermaster notifying the approaching 
change of watch. " All right, quartermaster ! I'm 
coming ! " I heard him answer. 

A few minutes later the round shining face of the 
Second Officer appeared in my doorway. He looked 
at me cautiously, as if he were expecting something. 

" All right, Doc. ? " he queried. 

19 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

"Yes. Quite all right." 

" Feeling up to dinner ? " 

As a matter of fact I wasn't. The hours for meals 
seemed to come round with startling rapidity. I stated 
this to the " Old Man " in explanation of my want of 
appetite. He waved it aside politely but firmly, and 
stated his opinion that I was " sickening for something." 

"Never mind. Doc," he said encouragingly; "we'll 
make a sailor of you yet." And to illustrate what 
he meant proceeded to get the better of an enormous 
menu. 

It was an astonishing feat. Undoubtedly he was 
a mighty trencherman. The others, good men and true, 
were not in it with him. He made me think of all sorts 
of incongTuous things — beef, beer, and the British 
Constitution, City dinners and the Lord Mayor's coach- 
man, prize Shorthorns and the Agricultural Hall, gout 
and dyspepsia — all in one breath. 

" My appetite's not what it was," he admitted at 
the end of dinner. " I don't feel a bit hungry now." 

He talked all the time he was eating, keeping the 
conversation going. When there was a lull every one 
kept quiet till he re-started. The mate stared 
solemnly at the cloth. The Chief smiled quietly 
to himself, or looked over at me. I gathered that 
it was not etiquette for a subordinate to start any new 
subject of conversation in the presence of the " Old 
Man." The doctor was the only one who could afford 
to neglect his opinion, or differ very violently from him 
in argument. The Chief also might venture to disagree, 
though not with the same freedom. But an executive 
officer — no, it was better not. These things slowly 
dawned upon me during the course of this my first day. 

Presently the " Old Man " sighed comfortably, the 
sigh of repletion. 
20 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

" I suppose. Doc, we'll have to get back to work,' 
he said. 

" I suppose so," I echoed. 

This was the invariable signal that dinner was over. 
He said it to me every night at sea for the following 
six months, and I made the same invariable response. 
The mate told me he had been saying it to every doctor 
for years. We followed him slowly out of the mess-room, 
each to his own quarters. 

It was not until we had passed the Bay of Biscay 
that I found my sea legs and made my reappearance 
in the mess-room. The " Old Man's " eyes twinkled 
when on the third day I turned up at breakfast. The 
mate nodded solemnly ; the second mate, grinning cheer- 
fully, made way for me to pass. 

" Try some ' dry hash,' Doc," said the " Old Man." 
" Must have some ' dry hash.' No man can call him- 
self a sailor who doesn't like ' dry hash.' " 

He proceeded to help himself to about a quarter of 
the dish, added two fried eggs and several slices of bacon, 
and fell to. Previously he had had fish. Afterwards 
he had a mutton chop and fried potatoes. This, with 
sundry cups of coffee, toast and marmalade, made up his 
breakfast. 

" Always have ' dry hash ' on the menu whenever 
possible," he explained. " Reminds me of the old 
sailing-ship days when I was a boy. What do you think 
of it. Doc. ? " 

" Fine," I said. I could have eaten anything that 
morning. 

" Thought we'd make a sailor of you," he remarked 
in a gratified tone. " It's the greatest test of a sea- 
cook I know, to be able to make ' dry hash ' right. This 
man's a treat. What do you think, ]Mr. Thomas ? " 

21 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Quite good," replied the mate laconically. 

" Ever taste ' dog's body,' Doc. ? " continued the 
" Old Man." 

" No," I answered promptly. 

" Oh, it's not so bad as that," he laughed. " Don't 
suppose our cook would know how to make it," he 
added regretfully. " Only a real old ' shell-back ' 
would." 

On the question of food the " Old Man " was in- 
exhaustible. The subject interested him profoundly. 
He was always ready to experiment on anything new. 
When we were ashore in port together later he was ever 
willing to investigate any dish he had not tasted before. 
His reputation I found was known all over the Far East. 
His delight in eating was so naively transparent that 
people asked him everywhere, and usually contrived 
to have something new for him to sample, much to my 
profit, as we were invariably asked out together. That 
he was quite aware of the amusement he caused I was 
soon quick to discover. But it affected him not at all. 
Like Falstaff, he was content to be a source of wit 
in others. In reality he secretly enjoyed leading them 
to believe they were poking fun at his expense, unknown 
to him. When I grasped the situation it caused me 
infinite joy. The Machiavellian-Gilbertian ponderosity 
of it was so ruminatingly droll. It pleased them; it 
pleased him, if possible, more — every one was pleased. 
What more could one wish for ? 

Amongst the Chinese I discovered he was vastly 
esteemed on account of his Gargantuan prowess. Mer- 
chants waited to send their cargo home by his ship 
simply because, when invited to their table, he had 
done them the honour of out-eating every other 
European present. To be fat is to look like a mandarin 
in the Celestial Empire; and no one could deny his 
22 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

pre-eminence in that' respect. He certainly was 
immense. I have seen his great bulk overawe truculent 
Japanese coolies in a way nothing else could ; for the 
Japanese, too, by heaping honours upon their 
enormously fat wrestlers, show the same curiously 
Oriental reverence for obesity as a sign of power which 
the European mind vainly tries to understand. 

In spite of these facts, however, he was beginning to 
get seriously alarmed by his continual increase in 
weight, as I discovered a few days later, when he had 
made up his mind to confide in me. But at the time, 
of course, I knew nothing of that. 

Breakfast was almost over. The second mate had 
gone to relieve the third when the " Old Man " 
rose. 

" We'll start inspection this morning if you're all 
right. Doc." 

" Quite all right," I hastened to assure him. 

So I had my first initiation into work, and morning 
inspection became a daily routine for the rest of the 
vogage, every day at sea. The " Old Man," the mate, 
the Chief, and I formed the inspecting body. First 
we went for'ard to the forecastle. Here the petty 
officers and quartermasters had their cabins — the 
carpenter, familiarly known as " Chips," the bo'sun, 
the lamp-trimmer, known as " Lamps," the four 
" quartermasters," and a " deck boy," who acted 
as their steward. The " Old Man " peered in every- 
where, and remarked about several things to the mate. 
Then we went aft again, and inspected the cook's galley 
to see that everything was clean. After that down to the 
well-deck aft, to the seamen's quarters, in the stern. 
The English sailors were quartered on the starboard 
side, the Chinese firemen to port. These latter had a 
special rice- cook of their own, and the " Old Man " 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

gave him a dressing-down about the filthiness of his 
galley without ever looking inside. 

" Sure to be dirty," he remarked to me. " A China- 
man isn't healthy unless he's dirty. The Japanese 
are clean but dishonest. The Chinaman is honest but 
filthy. Cleanliness doesn't go with honesty in the 
East. In fact, most things go by contraries to the 
West." 

So he gave the rice-cook a thorough rating as a 
stimulus, and the man took it all with the inscrutable 
face of the Oriental. It was impossible to tell whether 
he even knew he was being censured. Then we went 
into the Chinamen's fo'castle. 

It was there, for the first time, I smelt the inde- 
scribable smell of the East — the smell of every inhabited 
place beyond Suez, the smell of foetid narrow streets, 
of teeming populations, of temples and joss-sticks, of 
jealously guarded houses, of tropical suns beating upon 
rotten vegetation, of palm oil and patchouli, of sandal- 
wood and copra, dried fish and all the thousand- and- one 
abominations that make up the sum total of it all. 

It is a smell you loathe at first, get used to, grow to 
like, and finally, when you are back in clean, fresh 
iTngland, at intervals have a hungry longing for you 
would do almost anything to satisfy — a nostalgia that 
starts an unrest in your blood, sends you down to the 
docks to watch the great ships outward bound, and 
makes you envy the faces looking over the rail saying 
good-bye to England. 

It was a long, narrow, dim-lit place, with two tiers 
of box-like bunks around three of its walls. Some of 
the men were lying asleep in their bunks ; others, clad 
only in thin dungaree trousers, their lean, naked yellow 
bodies otherwise exposed, were playing some noisy 
game in which wooden blocks were banged with much 
24 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

chatter on the rough deal bench that served them for 
a table. One man was having his head shaved, by 
the barber of the company, with a razor that looked 
like a pen-knife. Crouched beside the stove a thin 
worn figure sat smoking from a long brass pipe, which 
he put stealthily away when we entered. 

" Opium ! " said the Chief quietly to me. 

Littered all round, in corners, in bunks, everywhere, 
were quaint-looking boxes fastened with elaborate 
locks, clothes, sandals, rubbish in buckets, vegetables, 
bits of dried fish and herbs hanging from the roof, 
gaudy almanacs fastened to the walls, and quantities 
of cheap English umbrellas tied up in bundles in every 
corner — ^the Chinaman has a passion for collecting 
one-and-sixpenny umbrellas. In the sternmost corner 
a few joss-sticks burning in a tin of sand before a tiny 
tinsel-gauded shrine cast a faint pervasive odour all 
around. 

The " Old Man " stumped resolutely to the centre of 
the fo'castle, and we followed silently. Suddenly he 
snorted : 

" This place is like a d — d pig-sty. Where's the 
No. 1 ? " 

The Chief picked out a man. 

" Tell No. 1 captain v/anchee." 

Presently the little squat Chinaman I had seen in 
the Liverpool office asking for a policeman appeared. 
His face was absolutely immobile, but his little black eyes 
had the furtive look of a rat's. 

The " Old Man " fell on him with a loud voice. His 
language about the state of the fo'castle was vitriolic. 
He seemed to be in an ungovernable rage. He cursed 
in English. He also made remarks in Chinese which, 
the Chief told me, were not complimentary to the female 
relatives of the listeners. They had been learnt in the 

23 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

process of years from many hands, and were constantly 
being added to, as he found them much more effective 
than BilHngsgate. He vituperated till we were half 
way across the deck again, and the little man following 
said never a word. Once or twice he squirmed slightly 
at some specially choice bit in Chinese, but the English 
left him undisturbed. -; 

Once on the saloon-deck the " Old Man " turned to 
me with a faint twinkle in his eye. 

" Exhausting, isn't it. Doc. ? Got to sling it into them 
hot. Same every voyage. Filthy ruffians, aren't they?" 
" They're a lot cleaner than plenty of English fire- 
men I have sailed with," said the Chief, who felt 
this to be an oblique reflection on the engine-room staff, 
and, like every man worthy of his salt, wanted to stick 
up for his own. 

" Never could see any good in any d — d foreigner, 
Dutch, Dago, Nigger, or Chink," said the " Old Man " 
sturdily. 

" Good old John Bull ! " I murmured to myself. 
" Don't you think so too. Doc. ? " he said, turning to 
me. 

" Thinking so is the secret of England's greatness," 
I answered diplomatically. 

It was a beautiful clear day, with just a suspicion 
of chilliness in the air. The little wavelets lapped 
lovingly alongside. Ships passed us on either side, for we 
were in the regular ocean thoroughfare. Far out the 
white wings of a " wind-jammer " rose like a cloud 
on the horizon. The mate was busy for'ard. The 
Chief and I hung listlessly over the rail. One of the 
crew was getting the ship's sails out from the fore- 
peak to air them in the sun. 

*' Fat lot of good they'd be," said the mate, coming aft. 
" In the old days," he added regretfully, " they 
26 






i>»iiiriiiii ■■iU'WliMifiiwiia i mi 



OFF TllK Sl'ANISH COAST BEYOND GJl'.RAl.TAi; 



H 



"THE GREAT STATUE OF LESSEl'S POIXTIXG WITH OUT- 
STRETCHED ARM TO THE CAXAL HIS GEXIUS HAD MADE 

POSSIBLE" (See p. 32) 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

took the Nestor into Bombay under sail, when she 
broke down off Sokotra. We don't need sailors now. 
Look at those fellows for'ard. They might as well be 
painters." 

Half a dozen A.B.s under the orders of the bo'sun 
were squatting on the main deck, with chipping 
hammers and cold chisels in their hands. They were 
all clothed in much-worn dungaree, and each carried 
the inevitable sailor's knife, in its sheath, stuck in his 
belt behind the right hip. In their headgear alone they 
showed variety of taste. Caps were predominant. 
Two wore broad-brimmed hats of what I afterwards 
came to know as Samarang bamboo plait. The bo'sun, 
a morose, inarticulate Welshm.an with wild Celtic eyes, 
was resplendent in a tropical helmet, once white, and 
brass earrings. Months later, v/hen I came to know 
him well, and caught him in a moment of expansion, 
I asked him what he wore the earrings for, and he 
told me they had cured him of moon blindness got on a 
" down-easter " sailing from 'Frisco to Montevideo. 
Now he was marshalling his men to start chipping 
the inside of the bulwarks, and soon the steady click, 
click, click of hammers resounded throughout the ship. 

" She'll be painted three times over before we get 
back to Liverpool," said the mate. 

" Why ? " I inquired in surprise, 

" Rust," he answered tersely. " Got to keep on 
painting. Salt water plays the deuce with iron. We 
took her into Liverpool a month ago, spotless, shining 
like a bride. In a week, with coal, and cargo, and 
careless handling, they made her look like a dirty 
old ' Geordie ' [Newcastle tramp]." 

" The soul of a mate is eaten up with paint. He 
thinks, dreams, and talks paint and nothing else from 
port to port," said the Chief. 

27 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" When I think of an engineer I think of oily 
smudges," retorted the mate. 

" There you are, Doc. He divides the world into 
those who paint and those who spoil that paint. Didn't 
I say his mind was ' paintish ' ? " 

All the next morning we were running down the 
coast of Portugal. The " Old Man " was in great form ; 
we had stolen a march on the Circe in the night, 
keeping closer in, and he said we'd probably be able 
to signal ' Sagres ' before her. 

As the morning grew we kept running closer and 
closer in, till at one o'clock we sighted Cape St. Vincent, 
with its Moorish-looking lighthouse on the top, perched 
on the extreme edge of the promontory. Painted bright 
yellow, with a tower at either corner, it looked for all 
the world like a child's wooden toy house at our distance 
from the shore. 

But it was not the lighthouse we were making for. 
Round the corner, past the lighthouse, we came upon 
a round drum of a building with a flagstaff. The 
Chief and I gazed intently at it with our glasses. 

" Sagres," he said. 

As we swung round, the " Old Man " had had four 
coloured flags run up from the flying bridge. It was 
the ship's name in international code. We watched 
intently for the response. In the afternoon sun the 
station seemed as dead as the dodo till just as we came 
abeam, when suddenly a pennant of brilliant red and 
white broke and fluttered up the flagstaff, stayed a few 
seconds at the top, and then came slowly down again. 

"That's the answer," said the Chief. "Your 
mother and mine, the ' Old Man's ' wife, and the 
mate's will read in to-morrow's paper : ' s.s. 
Clytemnestra, Liverpool for Yokohama, passed Sagres.' 
28 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

They won't know how it's done, but that's it. Let's 
go below. It's deuced cold." 

Early in the grey of morning we passed the town of 
Gibraltar crouching below the dimly seen outline of the 
great rock fortress. Point Europa sending a half-seen 
questioning finger out towards us. 

We were in the Mediterranean, and in a few hours 
I came to the conclusion it was distinctly warmer. 

" It's no use thinking of deck-chairs yet," said the 
Chief, who, like most engineers, was a cat for comfort. 

It was in the " middle watch " that night I got my 
first case. 

" You there, Doc. ? " It was the third mate's 
voice. 

" Yes. What's the row ? " 

" Captain's compliments, and one of the quarter- 
masters is delirious. Would you mind seeing him ? " 

I tumbled out shivering from the warm bunk, and 
hurried into some clothes. 

" Where is he ? " I said. 

" For'ard. Port side. Third cabin ! " 

It was a little man from Inveraray. He was crooning 
away to himself in the Gaelic, tossing his arms about. 
He felt like a furnace. I held the thermometer up to 
the light. 

" How much ? " said the third mate. 

" 104° F.," I answered. 

Together we went back, feeling our way along the 
deck. The night was very dark. An odd star peeped 
at us between the hurrying clouds. The square black- 
ness of the deck-houses amidships loomed like the head 
of a threatening monster over us, the two forward lights 
of the captain's cabin glaring at us like lidless eyes 
unwinking from their midst. Above two smaller lights, 

29 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

closer together, showed dimly the towering height of 
the flying bridge, and the spectral figure of the officer 
on watch pacing steadily backwards and forwards 
across them. A faint glare at intervals shot up to the 
sky from the great funnel behind. Over the side we 
could hear the angry gurgling of unseen waters. We 
were like a ghost ship upon an unknown sea. 

Something like this I said to the mate. 

" Alone ? " he said phlegmatically. " Not we ! Look 
there ! " 

He pointed out to starboard, and there far out we 
saw a clear white light, with another behind it, v/hilst 
low down, appearing and disappearing at intervals 
between them, was a third light, dull red. It was the 
mast-head and port lights of a ship making the same 
course as ourselves. 

I reported to the " Old Man," and turned in again. 

In the night we passed Algiers. In the morning 
I found my patient much better. Dm*ing the round 
that day I made up my mind there was something the 
matter with the Chinese cook. Had I breathed my 
suspicion to the " Old Man," he would have ordered 
him up for inspection ; but that was exactly what I did 
not want. Instead, I asked the Chief's advice. He 
was, in a way, the guardian of the Chinamen, and felt 
responsible for them. 

" No," he said, " you're quite right. I think I under- 
stand Chinks. They have very little faith in Em-opean 
doctors ; but they try every new ship's doctor at least 
once. If he happens to cure his first case, then the 
word goes round, ' This doctolh belong good pidgin ' ; 
and every one Will come to him with any ailment he 
has. If he fails, in their opinion, they'll never come 
near him again, but will wait till we strike some Chinese 
30 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

port, and bundle off to one of their own men. They've 
got lots of queer stuff of their own in the f o'castle to dose 
themselves with, and of course there's always opium." 

" I see," I said. 

Strolling for'ard again, I was captured by the " Old 
Man." For some days previously we had been taking 
a two-mile walk together, measured as so many turns 
on the saloon deck. His idea was to reduce his weight, 
mine to get some exercise. But I had cooled off. He 
rolled so in his walk that we constantly impinged, a 
fact of which he was blissfully unconscious, being six- 
teen stone, and having the elasticity of an indiarubber 
man. I, on the contrary, was battered. It was not 
a fair contest. I began to make excuses. For a stout 
man he was unnaturally active, so during our walk 
1 explained to him, between the collisions, that it was not 
exercise he wanted to reduce his weight — he took 
enough of that — but dieting. Accordingly I put him 
on a regimen that very day, and at " tiffin " he ate 
only about enough for two men. The mate was mildly 
sarcastic about it all. The Chief, on the other hand, 
was somewhat troubled, because the " Old Man " stated 
that he would be the lighter of the two before we 
reached Pinang. To start fair we rigged up a bo'sun's 
chair on deck, had ourselves weighed, and I was 
appointed official " keeper of the records." The Chief 
affected disbelief in dieting, and gave it as his opinion 
that " Antadipose " was the stuff. 

On the morning of the twelfth day we sighted Port 
Said. First came a lighthouse, and then some low- 
lying land. 

" That's Damietta," said the Chief. 

Then the land disappeared, as though it had been a 
mirage, and there was nothing but sea and horizon 

31 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

again, till quite suddenly another lighthouse flashed 
up. " That's it," said the Chief. 

Straining our eyes in the dim morning light, we saw 
the Pharos, and surrounding it the dim irregular out- 
line of low-lying houses. Picking up the pilot, we 
slowly approached, steaming in past the breakwater 
and the great statue of Lesseps, pointing with out- 
stretched arm to the canal his genius had made possible. 
It might have been the Port of London. But no — 
suddenly we came on a scene the East alone could have 
evolved. It was a P. & O. coaling. Around the 
queenly long grey hull, with its lines on lines of port -holes 
punched out, as it were, and strung like pearls along the 
sides, clustered irregular rows of squat and grimy low- 
lying lighters ; and up and down the improvised gang- 
ways from them to the ship, and back again, an ant- 
like stream of basket-carrying figures, dark brown, 
grimy, turbaned, petticoated, barefooted, swarmed 
endlessly, whilst all the time a murmuring shout ran 
with them. At the top of one of the gangways a tall 
white-robed figure stood reciting, in a loud monotone, 
verses from the Koran. It was this the swarming hive 
took up, and shouted as they ran — " La ilaha ill' Allah 
Mohammedu rasul Allah." 

Slowly we moved past, and presently a steam launch, 
flying the " Crescent and Star," with a crew in tall 
red turbans, came alongside. The crew gesticulated 
wildly, and shouted " Docteur ! Docteur ! " With 
true British phlegm no one took any notice. The 
gesticulations then grew more and more frantic ; they 
drew alongside, and hooked eagerly on to the gangway. 
Then from the cabin of the launch a little Frenchman, 
swathed to the eyes in a huge overcoat, tripped aboard 
us, looking very cold and miserable in the raw morning. 
He was vastly polite, got our " Bill of Health," bowed 
82 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

profusely, tripped down to his launch again, and steamed 
away. Down came the yellow flag from the fore-mast, 
and immediately on that signal a number of motionless 
bumboats pulled vigorously towards us. From every 
side they came — men in turbans, tarbushes, fezes, wide- 
trousered, long-coated, lean, brown-faced, brown-eyed, 
oily rascals, rowed by piratical-looking boatmen. They 
scurried up the gangway with their bundles, and fell 
on us, particularly me. They knew I was the doctor 
at once, my air of " never-having-been-there-before '* 
giving me completely away. They wanted to sell me 
cigarettes, post-cards, Maltese lace, ostrich feathers, 
Florida water, Turkish delight. They wanted to cut 
my hair, mend my boots, guide me ashore, do anything 
or everything for me. They followed me round the deck. 
There was no peace from them. 

" Say that Jock Ferguson is looking after you," 
said the Chief. 

I did so. 

It acted like a charm. They melted away. It was 
like the magic fairy word that calmed the demons of 
the underworld. 

" Who is Jock Ferguson ? " I inquired. 

" Ask me another," said the Chief. " Nobody knows 
who Jock Ferguson is. They're all Jock Ferguson. 
That fellow over there, talking to the chief steward, is 
the particular rascal I know as Jock. I don't believe 
there's any such person." 

Certainly nothing more unlike the name could have 
been presented in the man. He was a tall, thin, 
coppery fellow, with exceedingly black eyes. He wore 
a fez with a turban round it, a long grey overcoat, 
wide trousers, and exceedingly long French boots. 

" He's the most pohshed rogue I know. He cheats 
me every time I come here, and yet I get everything I 

O 83 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

want from him. I owe him money now, and yet he 
will never ask me for it. He is an artist. You talk to 
him," said the Chief. 

I did. He had a fluent command of both French 
and English. He told me in broad Scotch that he 
came " frae Pitlochry." He also got a prescription 
out of me for a cold in the head, from which he was 
suffering. I bought two porous water-bottles (chatties) 
from him, for use in the Indian Ocean. One of them 
was cracked and useless, I discovered, when I had 
reason to use it. He insisted on presenting me with 
a box of cigarettes. Subsequently I found I had bought 
500 from him, though I do not care for Egyptians. 
I suppose he hypnotised me into buying them. 

" Going ashore. Doc. ? " said the mate. 

" Think so. How long have we ? " 

" Eight hours," he answered. " We've got to take 
in a thousand tons of coal, and we have six hundred 
tons of cotton alongside for Kobe." 

'^ Any one coming with me ? " I inquired. 

No one could. Every one was busy. Jock Ferguson 
promptly offered me a guide, and presently I found 
myself in a boat rowed by a picturesque old ruffian 
in a patched blue coat, wide blue trousers, bare legs 
and feet. Round his hoary old head he had wrapped 
what looked like the remnants of a Paisley shawl. 
My guide, who was very proud of his English, was 
somewhat more respectable. He wore a red knotted 
muffler round his fez, petticoats, and elastic-sided boots. 

On shore I was guided past the Sudanese sentry-— 
a most dignified black person in khaki marching to 
and fro with fixed bayonet — into the main street. 
Here my dragoman, who had a vituperative acquaint- 
ance with many similarly clad persons, rescued me 
from several who wished to press their acquaintance 
34 



'**»«»IM«K,Jl,^ 




rOKT SAID \\ ITii TiiK siJi;/ ('AVAl, OKLMOKS 




|)AI(ai;ki,;vaiis AT i-(»i;t sail 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

and wares on my notice. He wanted, evidently, 
to do all the cheating for his master, and, if he could, 
for himself. 

The shops were filled with the usual tourist rubbish. 
They all looked like pawnbrokers' places. Everywhere 
the notices were in French, the official language of 
Egypt. The guide hailed a carriage for me. It looked 
as if it had previously been used as a hen-roost. The 
horses were mules, the harness an intricate mass 
of strings and knots. The guide informed me it was the 
end of the " Ramadan " — a month of fasting enjoined 
on all Mohammedans — and that every one was holi- 
daying in consequence. He advised going to see the 
Arab fair. This was on the sands, past the new mosque, 
against the outer wall of which one decrepit old gentle- 
man was squatting darning his trousers, taken off for 
the purpose, and several others were lying apparently 
asleep. Presently we came on the fair. There were 
boat-swings and roundabouts, and a circus tent from 
which came the sound of frequent pistol firing, and 
much shouting. It might have been an English village 
green on a Bank Holiday save for the boys in bright 
new tarbushes, and sloe-eyed little girls very con- 
scious of their new muslin frocks and the flowers in 
their carefully braided long black hair, who ran about, 
rode on the roundabouts, and hung around the stalls 
of the sweetmeat vendors. Sugar-cane cut into lengths 
of about a foot seemed to be especially appreciated 
by the boys, who each chewed his piece as he scampered 
now ahead, now behind his father. The little girls 
walked sedately alongside their parents nibbling Turkish 
delight. 

From the fair we drove to the native quarter, a place 
of narrow streets, dilapidated lath-and-plaster buildings, 
teeming with multitudinous life — small native shops, 

35 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

hiundrics, niul little open cafes, where grave old men 
sat eross-legofcd playinj> chess and smoking inter- 
minable cigarettes. Most of the women seen abont 
Avere old and wrinkled. They wore the veil in a 
negligent manner — it was no longer necessary to hide 
their bennties from the eyes of men. Once a young 
woman passed in the disfiguring yashmak, with its 
ugly brass cylinder over the nose and forehead. Girls 
in plenty were running around, but this was the only 
young woman seen. It is this scarcity of female charm 
that strikes the European so much at first, used as he is 
to the crowds of idle women gaping in the shop windows 
and blocking up the thoroughfares in the regions where 
cheap " sales " (so called with sardonic lumiour) abound. 
From these narrow streets we came to a part where 
the houses looked mysterious and the streets were 
curiously empty. It Avas the middle of the afternoon, 
and the place seemed buried in Sabbatical gloom. All 
the houses Avcre alike, square, flat- sided, pierced by 
monotonous rows of windoAA'^s, heavily guarded by 
strong Venetian shutters, each storey having its own 
verandah. 

Suddenly, as we drew near one house, the strains 
of music came echoing into the empty sandy street. As 
if at a signal the decrepit chariot stood still, my guide 
got doAvn and suggested I should go in. 

I thought rapidly, and then folloAved him. It AA^as 
queer, and I Avanted to know. He led the Avay upstairs 
into a large room Avhere several men were playing 
" roulette." None took any notice of me, but appar- 
ently the bank Avas having a very bad time of it. 
Every one was winning. The music from the automatic 
piano AA'^as deafening. I looked on silently for some 
time, and then made a move for the door, An oily- 
looking Greek intercepted me. 
36 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

" Won't you try your luck ? " he said, 

*' I'm not drunk enough," I answered. 

He shrugged his shoulders, and I pa^ssed out. On the 
stairs I paused, and then stole quietly back. The 
rnusie had ceased, and all the coniederates who h^d 
been pla;yirig so feverishly, and vz-innirig so much, had 
ceased also, and were preijaririg to resixme the ^ie-?^ 
my advent had so fruitlessly interrupted. 

The guide aeerned disappointed. He cJirnbefl up 
slowly to the h»ox h)eside the driver again, and we 
arnbled ori. Turriing a comer, a woman's low laugh 
came soft and clear in tPie stillness of the sandy street, 
a tace appeared lor a moment on the veranrleJi, and then 
there v^as a discreet cough. 

Automatically the driver stopped. I.'he guide turned 
round inquiringly, but I looked straight ahea/i. He 
said sorrxething, probably not complimentary, and the 
rickety old carriage with its two skinny mules ambled 
on again. 

There are ligly stories ahiout Port Said — it has an 
unsavoury reputation; stories ol men winnin^g large 
siiins at the gambling hells and then mysteriou.sly di»- 
apjjearing — ^the desert sand is a convenient place for the 
disyx/sal of dead bodies ; stories of drunken sailors 
S'lpyK/sed to be drowned on the way to their ships ; stories 
of innocent English girls, eager to buy curios, setting out 
under the guidance of such a rascal as I had, and never 
apx>earing again — the secrets of the harem are well kept, 
i'robably most of these stories are aprxrryphal. 

All day long we had been loa/ling cotton for .Tapan. 
The coolies were very slow at it. It w&,3 the day of 
rejoicing after the fast, and extra inducements had >iad 
to be held out to them to uoake them work. It was 

S7 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

also very cold and raw, and Egyptian coolies do not 
love the cold. Consequently it was late in the afternoon 
before it was all stowed. 

Then we started coaling. Coaling is a nightmare. 
Plug your ventilators, fasten the doors of your cabin, 
screw up your ports hermetically, and yet the coal- 
dust gets in. 

It came alongside in lighters, and from each boat 
two big heavy planks were run up to the bunker doors. 
Up one of these planks the half-naked coolies ran, each 
with his basket full of coal, after dumping which he 
ran down the other plank to the lighter again. We, too, 
had a long-robed patriarch chanting verses from the 
Koran. It seems the men work quicker under the 
inspiration of the chant, and the coaling company keeps 
a special reciter constantly employed. But the row 
is something indescribable. Night fell, and still the 
coaling went on. The lights from the cafes on shore 
came in long rippling streaks across the water, and 
through the windows could be seen figures passing 
and repassing. Sometimes the sound of music, too, 
would come — but very rarely, for the din of the coolies 
seemed to increase as the coal in the lighters sank 
lower and lower. Huge cressets burning on the lighters 
cast a Im'id glare over the grimy, perspiring figures. 
It was like a scene out of the Inferno. They seemed 
to be working faster and faster ; the voice of the chanter 
rose wilder and wilder ; the coal in the lighters sank 
lower and lower. There was a sudden last shout, a 
sound of hurrying feet, every one rushed to leave the 
ship, the planks were withdrawn, ropes cast loose, 
the empty lighters with their burning flares drifted 
into the night, and all was still. 

Coaling was over. The Chief passed me, negroid 
with dust, where he had been measuring. I went on 
88 



LIVERPOOL TO PORT SAID 

deck again. We looked like a Newcastle tramp. Grimy 
black hands had left their mark all over the spotless 
white paint of the deck-houses. The mate was snorting 
round, cursing softly to himself. 

The stillness after the din was wonderful. Near the 
canal mouth a big German mail-boat, which had been 
coaling all day, had hoisted three lights on her fore- 
mast. That was the signal for the pilot to come aboard. 
Her three great decks were all aglow with serried rows 
of lights, and as she slipped silently past us, her great 
searchlight throwing a blinding glare in front, a hose- 
pipe jerking water over the stern to shake off persistent 
bumboats, the music of her band came clear across 
the water. 

" What are we waiting for ? " I asked. 

Our signal lights had been up some time, the pilot 
had come aboard, the electrician had got his search- 
light going. The pilot explained that there were two 
mail-boats and a troopship just coming out of the 
Canal, and we could not start until they passed. 

Presently the "stand-by" rang; the great search- 
light in the bow burned bright, the ship seemed to wake 
up suddenly, and in another minute we were moving 
into night in the Canal. 



39 



ni\rri:i( i 



•I'll 111 IN hi, A IN OdlllAN 



Ni|'l>l' )•> lliii <l(MMiJ ) 'I'lin 'I'liii ( loiiintiiiiiliiiniilri I " Hitliiii|i 

giMxl riiijilM " 9 I4OVD, r.M|/iiiUi)ihniili I lii/iij, (Ulil Mli« 'IVii|*|nttil 

iilulili I I'mliii «iiiil |ti<lllttJi « 'i'lio < UtiiinMii Now Vdmi 11 An 

uMlilo nil iiiMil rt)vt<r I 'I'lin i.iii)i|i|>,|ii (u I, ol IimkI fJMilililii/i, 




■.v>»*''- wvt^ 'v g^:^^i:^ ie i s 0mt . ^ iii mr-^ 'i 



-» 



THE SUEZ CANAL 




'DKSEUVori;. THE LAST STATION BEFORE THE ' BITTEE LAKES'" 

(See 1). 45) 



CHAPTER II 

Midnight in the Canal is a sensation. There is an air 
of ghostly unreality about it. No sound is heard 
except the sizzling of the enormous searchlight hung 
over the bow close down near the water. Everything 
is dark save in the region of the cone of light. There 
is nothing to see but a narrow strip of illuminated 
water, fluorescent green, bounded on either side by 
unlimited dun-coloured sand. The ship crawls slowly 
on, raising scarce a ripple, following the line of buoys 
as they appear in the area of light, one after another 
endlessly in an interminable shadowy chain, making 
one count, owing to the absence of other objects, tiU 
sheer futility kills by inanition. I watched it all as 
in a dream till suddenly a hoarse voice came from the 
bridge : 

" All hands on deck. Make fast." 

The telegraph rang clearly from the depths of the 
engine-room, and figures appeared in the darkness, 
fore and aft. The native boatmen rowed silently 
ashore, and made us fast to posts on the left bank. 
A bright light like a star, low down, appeared far in 
front of us, grew steadily larger, and at last showed 
as the searchlight of an approaching vessel, which 
itself looked like a gigantic glowworm in the faint halo 
rising from its dim-lit ports. There was not room for 
us both to keep our course, so we had had to tie up. 
It was a troopship homeward bound, and she passed 

43 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

so close that we could see the men through the open 
ports playing cards in the ease of unbuttoned tunics. 

After that the course was clear, and we proceeded 
uninterrupted through the silent night. 

In the morning I woke to find the sunlight streaming 
through my ports. It was a glorious day. The light 
air from the desert gave one a peculiar feeling of 
buoyancy. The land itself seemed forgotten of man 
— nothing but sand, far as the eye could reach — sand 
in ridges, sand in little flat plains, sand in hummocks 
and miniature mountains, with here and there a few 
solitary scrub acacias, adding, if possible, to the 
desolation. 

Every now and then we would pass a big slate- 
coloured canal dredger, with its long arm erect, and 
its native crew lolling about, regardless of the in- 
evitable Greek skipper. 

Sometimes a little fussy " C.S." tug-boat would 
steam cheekily past us at full speed, the native crew 
one wide-mouthed grin at us as we crawled painfully 
along at five miles an hour. 

Suddenly we came on an Arab encampment on the 
edge of the Canal. Some dozen camels were kneeling, 
groaning audibly under the weight of their burdens, 
in the foreground; further back were four ragged 
tents and one or two white-robed figures ; whilst 
between, more camels, silhouetted against the sky-line, 
were stringing off, driven by diminutive sturdy turbaned 
figures with shrill, important voices. One imp saw 
me preparing to photograph the scene, and posed 
himself in what he assumed was a dignified position, 
getting so excited that he fell into the shallow water 
on the edge of the Canal, from which he was rescued 
with much laughter by his companions. 

In the early forenoon the Canal suddenly widened 
44 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

into a reach of shallow water, and the white roofs and 
minarets of a town appeared on the right, some miles 
awa}". This was Ismailia, and here we found the 
German mail-boat just ahead of us. 

A steam launch heading across the lake circled round 
to us, took ofi our pilot, and gave us a second in his 
place. It is supposed to be too great a strain for one 
pilot to bring a ship the whole way through the Canal. 

Soon we were off again between the narrow banks, 
proceeding slowly until we saw a clump of palm-trees, 
and low-hing houses, in the distance. A little jetty 
projected into the water, and overhead on the flag- 
staff we could see two black balls suspended. 

" That's Deservoir, the last station before the ' Bitter 
Lakes,' and the message is, ' All clear,' " said the 
mate. 

As we came opposite we could see the station-master, 
his wife and daughter, sitting in the verandah under 
the shade of the palm-trees, dressed in their Sunday 
best, enjoying the Sabbath calm. 

In another minute we had reached a broad expanse 
of water ; the telegraph rang sharply, the ship seemed 
suddenly to wake ; the orders were, " Full speed 
ahead," and presently we were dashing across the 
lake for all we were worth, so that, looking back shortly 
afterwards, the station was a mere clump of feathery 
palm-trees on the horizon, with the white triangular 
sails of two " dahabeeyahs," rising one on either side, 
a framework for the picture, against an azure sky fading 
to an opalescent green as it touched the desert sand 
beyond the edge of the horizon. All around was a 
flatness of water. It was an hour's run across the 
lakes. 

" We should make Port Tewfik at four o'clock," said 
the skipper. 

45 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Accordingly everyone retired after *' tiffin " to finish 
up his mail, and so things became distinctly ruffled 
when the unexpected order came : " Turn out. Make 
fast." 

" Dash it all ! We're only four miles from Suez," 
said the mate. There was a Canal station about 
a hundred yards ahead. " Madame " was its name. 

" Just hke a woman to do the unexpected," said 
the Chief. It was some consolation, however, to find 
that the German mail-boat was also held up. 

" Half an hour," said the mate. 

An hour passed. " Soon now," said every one. 
Another hour passed. " Deuced odd," was the general 
comment. Another hour fled. There was nothing to 
do except stare at the mail-boat ahead. She was deco- 
rated with flags in honour of some German Royalty's 
birthday, and to while away the time the band discoursed 
sweet music of the " Fatherland." 

Drowsily the afternoon wore slowly on. A man 
came leisurely along the Canal bank and talked to our 
Greek pilot. Then we learnt that a lighter, loaded with 
stone, had most inconsiderately sunk in the middle of 
the channel, and it would be impossible to pass her till 
the tide rose. 

" If England were at war and I v/ere an enemy, 
the first thing I'd do would be to block the Canal," 
said the Chief. " It's as easy as falling off a log." 

We paced slowly up and down the deck. Above us 
was a sky of luminous turquoise stretching in one 
huge vaulting arch from pole to pole of the horizon. 
On either side the hot and yellow sands, making the 
air vibrate above, tremulous in hazy, blurred outlines, 
stretched to the uttermost limits of vision, cleft only 
by the long green opalescent ribbon of the Canal. Sur- 
rounding us was an infinite quiet. Even the German 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

orchestra had been abashed to silence by a feeling of 
the presence of the spirit of the Infinite — or perhaps 
because the music had run out. The Chief and I, too 
somnolent to walk any more, drowsily discussed the 
two hypotheses, lying in our deck-chairs, our feet 
high over our heads on the taff-rail. But even when 
we laughed, we laughed softly, for the feeling of 
immensity was over us, and we could intuitively under- 
stand how, nurtured in such great vastnesses, the 
Semitic mind had risen above the futile polytheism 
of the Greeks, and evolved the grand conception of a 
vast, omnipotent, omniscient, and omnipresent God, with 
its necessary corollary, " There is no God but God." 
On the fo'castle head the Arab boatmen, dressed in 
gaberdines of faded blue, brown-faced, white-toothed, 
with brilliant orange turbans, squatted round a hookah 
in somnolent content, waiting with the infinite patience 
of the East till it was the will of Allah that we should 
proceed f mother. 

By this time the swift kaleidoscope of sunset was 
imminent. Above the blue was still of an intensity, 
but towards the west it faded to the green of sea- 
encircling caverns lit by a morning sun along a chalk- 
cliff coast. Wisps of long-drawn cloudlets sailed slowly, 
rosy-pink in the middle heights, whilst on the ruddy 
path between us and the sinking sun the sands glowed 
golden, rose, and jasper, and the ribbon of the Canal 
became a dimpled bronze. Slowly the Tm'neresque 
effect rose to a climax, until the sinking sun touched 
the rim of the horizon, sank rapidly, and disappeared ; 
and then, as if at the touch of a wand, the gold, the 
rose, the blue, the green, melted to all the shades of 
grey, a little breeze sprang up from nowhere, and the 
soft mantle of night swept in layer after layer across 
the sky. 

47 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Over the sands the lights of Suez now twinkled in 
the darkness, and then quite suddenly, as if that had 
been the signal, orders came to get under weigh again. 
Every one sighed with relief, and the great ship once 
more vibrated with the tremor of the throttled engines. 
Again the searchlight sizzled in the bow, and we were 
slowly moving on between the half-seen banks in the 
darkness. 

Presently the channel widened, trees appeared 
dimly on the right bank, verandahed houses with 
twinkling lights loomed up amid the trees, the Canal 
suddenly ended, and we were in the open sea. This 
was Port Tewfik, named in honour of a late Khedive. 
Slowly we forged ahead into the bay, till the lights 
of Suez streamed across the water to us. Then a 
launch appeared, mysterious, moth-like, from nowhere, 
and bore off our pilot. 

A voice rose in the darkness in a singing monotone : 

" By the mark, seven." 

It was the quartermaster heaving the lead. A sharp 
order came from the bridge : 

" Let go." 

There was a rattle of chains, and the great bow 
anchor splashed down into the bay. The electrician 
shut off his searchlight and disconnected his dynamo. 
We had finished with the Canal. Some one hailed 
us in the darkness, and another little launch appeared 
moth-like in the circle of our lights from nowhere. 
The gangway was rapidly let down, for this was the 
" agent " coming aboard, bringing our mails and the 
final sailing orders for the outward voyage. Out in 
the bay the lights of two big liners, homeward bound, 
rippled over to us. One had her searchlight ready, 
preparatory to entering the Canal. Aloft she carried 
the red light which showed she had His Majesty's 
48 




■»3«8I$ 



^:\IAl)AMi:' WAS ITS XAMIO" (Sfcp ICI 



i.- '^ 



.igd h 



^^M 



A CANAL SJ AllU-N 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

mails aboard. The other had a row of four white lights 
at her fore-mast head, and with these she was winking 
in Morse code to the shore. A Black Sea tramp steamer 
stole past us quietly in the night. A little tug-boat 
puffed away officiously with the electrician and his 
gear. The " Old Man " came out of his cabin with 
the agent, who had our homeward letters in his port- 
folio. Two ghost-like figures, they said good-bye at 
the gangway head in the half darkness. 

Then " Pleasant voyage," came a voice half-way 
down the gangway. 

" Thank you," said the " Old Man," leaning over 
the rail. 

" Good-bye." 

" We'll be off in five minutes now," said the Chief. 
" This is the original spot — ' East of Suez ' — where the 
Ten Commandments stop. We'll be opposite Mount 
Sinai, where they were made, when you get up to-morrow 
morning. Doc." 

The " Old Man," turning to go on the bridge, 
heard the remark. 

"Humph!" he said. "They cease at Dover, Doc." 
The " Old Man " is one of those who consider Heaven 
is a British possession and ought to be coloured " red " 
on the map. The official language there, too, is English. 

Next morning we were steaming steadily between 
the peninsula and the Egyptian coast. The land was 
rugged and mountainous on either side. It teemed 
with legendary sites of the Mosaic pilgrimage — the 
Well of Moses, the place of crossing of the children o 
Israel, the hoary head of Sinai rising from the clouds. 
Looking at the inhospitable land, one did not wonder 
that they longed for the " flesh-pots of Egypt." 

After breakfast No. 1 came to me. He stood rigidly 

D 49 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

in front of me, his yellow old wrinkled face like a graven 
image. 

" What thing ? " I said. 

" One man makee sick. No can," he answered 
solemnly. 

" AH right. Bring him along." 

It was my first Chinese patient, and he had put 
on his dress of ceremony for me — pigtail free and 
carefully braided, loose black jacket and trousers, 
black shoes with thick white soles. His name was 
" Cheong-wa." Taking him down to my surgery, 
I found he had a ragged ulcer on his breast -bone about 
the size of a two-shilling piece. They had been treating 
this by knuckling it all over, a kind of Chinese massage. 
As a consequence it was very much inflamed. Under 
treatment, however, it was nearly well in three days, 
and my reputation was made. I belonged " good pidgin." 

Next morning I looked at the thermometer as soon 
as I was awake. It registered eighty-five in my 
cabin. The order therefore had come to don white 
uniform, port-holes were unscrewed, ventilators care- 
fully set to the wind, and from somewhere my steward 
unearthed a wind-chute for my after port. On deck 
the awnings had been put up, and a row of deck-chairs 
arranged close to the companion hatch. Everywhere 
preparations were being made for the hot weather. 
It felt like the middle of summer at home. Looking 
at the calendar, it was difficult to believe it was the first 
week in February. 

" This is the weather we sign on for. How do you 
like it. Doc. ? " said the second mate. 

" I'm beginning to feel really happy," I answered. 

" You're getting the best of it," he said. " This 
is winter in the Red Sea. Next voyage it will be 
stifling here." 
50 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

" Have you left a hole in the awnings for the Doc. 
to get sunburnt through ? " the Chief inquired 
gravely of the mate. " Nobody '11 believe his 
yarns when he gets home, unless he's burnt a bit." 

The mate smiled sleepily. Both of us felt too com- 
fortable to reply. 

Picture to yoiu-self three long white figures, stretched 
in deck-chairs, heels planted high above their heads 
on the rail, lazily watching the horizon move slowly 
up and down between the bars as the ship rolled in 
the calm sea, too lazy to speak, too lazy almost to 
smoke, with no one to worry them, nothing to do, 
conscious that all the time, in the little island at home, 
people were plashing through the rain and mud, 
shivering over half-dead fires, struggling with one 
another in the mad rush for gold, backbiting, slandering, 
marrying, dying — ough ! , -4 

I had a copy of the Times. It came aboard at Port 
Tewfik and was already ten days old. Politics — the 
attitude of Germany, Protection, Free Trade — what 
did it matter ? Nothing. The sea somehow has a 
wonderful power of correcting one's mental perspective. 
On land the immediate environment bulks so largely 
that man does not feel his littleness. At sea the 
fallacy of the near does not operate ; one is just a 
point in immensity, and other things fall into correct 
proportion. 

Our climate makes for a restless energy. We have to 
fight with the elements, with the soil, with one another, 
to make existence possible. We are aggressive in 
consequence by heredity; we carry our aggressive 
spirit abroad with us; and the non-aggressive nations 
succumb before us. We do not stop to think whether 
it is of any benefit to ourselves or others. Action for 
action's sake has got into our blood ; we cannot help 

51 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

ourselves, we must be doing something. As a rule 
we do not recognise that this " ergophilia " is a 
disease. We even boast of it as one of our special 
virtues, and talk of the races who have it not as 
" decadent." 

It is only when one gets dislocated from one's environ- 
ment that one appreciates the other view — the view 
of a man on a camel in the desert, looking at the 
illimitable sand, knowing the simoom may come 
at any moment, knowing that no efiort of his will 
eke out the supply of water, and no device augment 
the endurance of the camel, on which his life depends. 
It is natural he should be fatalistic, just as the sailor 
on the high seas is fatalistic. It is contact with the 
elemental things, the feeling of the powers of the un- 
seen, the helplessness of individual effort, that induces 
it. When the mate left us to struggle with the 
" bills of lading," I fired off these musings on the Chief. 

" It's the heat," he said sympathetically. " Have 
another iced lager." 

" Base materialist ! " I answered. " It's my shout." 

Next morning, after inspection, we had our second 
weighing. The " Old Man " had gone down eight 
pounds, the Chief was up two, the rest were 
about the same. The " Old Man " was highly 
delighted. There was only a difference of ten pounds 
between him and the Chief. 

" I'll get below him before we reach Pinang," he 
repeated. 

The Chief smiled faintly. 

" He'll get tired of it presently," he said. " I've 
seen him at this game before. Let's go and watch for 
' flying fish.' Bet you a bottle of lager I see more 
between now and ' tiffin ' than you do." 
62 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

He did. In fact, I couldn't see them at all. A hot 
wind was blowing olT the Nubian desert, the sea was a 
grey mass of lumpy wavelets, the fish were not flying 
high, and so my unaccustomed eye could not yet make 
them out. 

I professed a healthy scepticism as to their presence 
which exercised the Chief to much pointing. The 
mate, with twinkling eyes, professed, too, not to 
be able to see them. Finally the Chief proclaimed 
us conspirators in a base plot to keep him thirsty. 
He had his revenge that evening. We three were sitting 
in the mate's cabin playing dummy bridge, with 
the ports wide open. Since dinner-time the wind had 
risen steadily. The mate had just said : " I 
leave it to dummy," and I was looking at my 
cards, when I heard a curious smacking noise. Some- 
thing wet and slimy had struck the mate on the 
face. It fell wriggling on the card tabic. The mate 
drew his hand in a startled manner over his cheek. 

" Well, I'm . It's a flying fish," he said. 

" It's a special intervention of Providence to demon- 
strate you owe those drinks," said the Chief 
solemnly. 

You will have guessed he was a Presbyterian Irish- 
man — no one else could have been capable of such a 
remark, made in all seriousness. Undoubtedly the 
argument was with him. 

Later, when we went on deck for a cool down before 
turning in, we found that quite a number had been 
blown on board. The Chinamen had collected half 
a bucketful, and were going to make a feast of them 
in the middle watch. In appearance they were like 
small herring, with the lateral fin very much elongated. 

" Let's sit an hour before turning in," said the 
Chief. 

53 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The tropical night at sea is something to be felt 
rather than described. It is dark — inky dark, and 
yet not with the unfriendly dark of Northern climes, 
but with an air of warm encirclingness as of some one, 
unseen, beloved, bending over one. The ship is a 
region of dim shadows, faintly seen, pale lights casting 
hazy cones of brightness, multitudinous sounds — 
here, there, everywhere, indefinite, small — blending 
with the all-pervading monotone of the screw. 

Far out at sea a sudden point of light appears, 
flickers, and goes out. That is an Arab dhow. The 
Captain has seen our mast-head lights, and the long row 
of port-holes, shining like dragon scales along the water- 
line, and he responds by burning a " flare," to show 
us where he is, so that wc may not run him down in 
the darkness. He never carries lights. Why should 
he ? When his forefathers brought the Queen of 
Sheba to see King Solomon in all his glory, they carried 
no lights ; and what was good enough for them is 
good enough for him. All round the ship a wave of 
phosphorescence runs from stem to stern, composed 
of myriads on myriads of flying points of flame, rushing 
past, countless as the sands upon the seashore, some as 
large as a five-shilling piece, others mere specks of light. 
They are the souls of those who have died at sea on 
their way to the grave of the " Prophet." All good 
Mohammedans pray for their repose, and we — why 
should we doubt but that it serves ? On such a night 
as this one can believe anything. There are times 
when one's antipathy to facts amounts to positive 
hostility. Such a night was this. The wind was 
flapping the awnings audibly in the darkness overhead, 
but it was a wind from off the desert, and one could 
have dressed as Adam and yet been comfortable. I 
lay back, too somnolent to move. A creaking indi- 
54 




IMI'F I'lI.CKIMS I'Oi; MECCA OS liOAIM) ,-llir. SI KZ 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

cated that the faint area of whiteness that represented 
the Chief had shifted in his chair. Then the light of a 
match illuminated his face, tanned by many years of 
sun and wind and sea. Without a word he, too, sank 
back in his chair again. We had got past the stage 
when speech was necessary. 

Suddenly from overhead a bell clanged — one — ^two — 
three — four — five. There was a pause, and then from 
the fo'castle head the signal was repeated, and the 
voice of the look-out came mournfully : 

" All's well. Lights burning brightly." 

The Chief's chair creaked again. He had got up. 

" Come on, Doc," he said. " Mustn't go to sleep 
here. The night dews are very heavy in spite of the 
awnings." 

At " tiffin " the next day the third mate came 
down to report " two small islands ten points to 
port." 

"Keep her there, Mr. Mathews," said the "Old 
Man," reaching out for another chop. 

" Yes," he said, continuing the conversation, " every 
man ought to get married. 1 was engaged fourteen 
times myself." 

" How often ? " I said in surprise. 

*' Fourteen times," he repeated sturdily. " Got 
engaged mostly after every voyage when I got home, 
and found out something against them next time 
I got back. One girl I was particularly fond of was 
away at a race-meeting with a man I disliked when 
I arrived unexpectedly home. She cried like any- 
thing when I told her she would not do for a sailor's 
wife. An old sailor can't be happy at sea if he thinks 
his wife is gallivanting about with other men ashore. 
I took the ring off her finger. It's thirty years ago, 
an' she's a widow now, but she still sends me a Christmas 

5$ 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

card every year. I remember as if it was yesterday 
taking that ring off her." 

" What did you do with it ? " said the Chief. 

" Dropped it overboard — dropped them all over- 
board except one. Couldn't give another girl a second- 
hand ring — could I ? " 

" Certainly not. But v^^hat about the one ? " I said. 

"■ Oh ! that was when I was mate of the Cyclops. 
Old Mac — you remember old Mac ? " looking at the 
Chief. The Chief nodded. 

" Well, old Mac was ' chief ' of the Cyclops that 
voyage. I was just going to pitch the ring out of 
the port when old Mac came into my cabin. ' What's 
that you've got ? ' he said. I was a bit sore at 
the time, and I said shortly, ' Engagement ring. 
Girl no good. I was just going to pitch it over- 
board when you came in.' ' How much did it 
cost ? ' said Mac cautiously. I told him. ' I'll give 
you four pounds for it,' he said. Well, I thought 
I might as well have the money; so I let him 
have it. "^Vhen he'd got it he didn't know what 
to do with it. He was a careful old fellow and 
did not like the idea of wasting it. So he married a 
woman it fitted, and, do you know, the marriage turned 
out splendidly, though it was only because he had 
the ring the idea ever came into his head." 

Later in the day we passed close to Mocha, of coffee 
fame. I was on the bridge with the " Old Man " at 
the time. 

" Last voyage we called here," he said, " and the 
little Turkish doctor presented me with some of the 
precious stuff. I've got some of it left. We'll sample 
it after dinner." 

The steward made it as the doctor had shown him last 
voyage. It was thick treacly stuff, very black, very strong. 
56 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

" There's more Mocha drunk every year in England 
alone than is exported from Mocha in two years, the 
Consul told me. Which thing is a mystery," said the 
" Old Man." 

" If we take twice as much as is produced, where 
does the rest of the world get theirs from ? " I said. 

" That is a secret which will only be revealed at the 
Last Day," the Old Man answered solemnly. 

" Would you like to be called as we're passing 
Perim about midnight ? " he said, as I was leaving. 

I nodded, and so at " one bell " (11.45 p.m.) the 
quartermaster came to call me. Though it was blowing 
half a gale, the wind was so hot that even in thin pyjamas 
one felt quite comfortable. I climbed to the flying 
bridge, where I found the " Old Man " similarly 
clad, standing with the Second Officer, gazing at 
a low-lying island, seen dimly in the moonlight, with 
about a dozen lights dotted over it. 

The " Old Man " turned. " See those two lights, Doc. ? 
Well, when we get them in line we're opposite the 
harbour entrance. Then we'll signal." 

I watched in silence the lights grow closer and closer 
together as we swept onwards. All was very quiet. 
Suddenly — so suddenly I jumped — the quartermaster 
started to strike " eight jiells." Immediately after- 
wards the two lights fused. 

" Dead on," said the " Old Man." " Ready, Mr. 
Horner ? " 

" Yes, sir," answered the Second Officer. 

" Light up, then." 

The Second Officer, standing to the starboard 
side of the bridge, struck a light, and immediately the 
whole ship was flooded with a bright blue glare. Then 
slowly, one by one, six blue balls of flame shot up into the 
night, exploded, and went out. Then all was dark again. 

5T 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Watch for the answer. There it is," said the 
*' Old Man." 

A glimmer had started on the highest point of the 
island. It grew brighter, and then suddenly bm'st 
into a red glare, flared a moment, and was gone. 

" That's all," said the *' Old Man." " My wife will 
know to-morrow that we've passed Perim safely. 
We've been married eighteen years, and she worries 
still. I cable her from every port." 

Every sailor is a sentimentalist when women are 
concerned. He looks upon them as something too 
fragile and precious for this rough-and-tumble world, 
something to be guarded and protected from any- 
thing that would ruffle their rosy-tinted views of life. 
He sees so little of them, when he is on shore, that 
in the long night watches, with only the stars for 
company, he weaves haloes of imagination around the 
very name of woman till every petticoat becomes a 
" Venus-Madonna." 

" There are no bad women," the " Old Man " once 
said to me. " When you hear of one, it always means 
some man's doing." 

" Did lever tell you how we came to take Perim ? " 
he said, as we went down to the deck below to have 
a look at the charts. 

" It was a very smart bit of work, and meant a lot for 
England. When we took possession it was an unknown 
island. It is now one of the most important coaling 
stations in the world. It was in the days before the 
Canal was opened, and it belonged to nobody, or Turkey 
— I suppose it was Turkey, but she didn't count. Well, 
at any rate, we had a very wide-awake Governor at 
Aden in those days. The French were building the 
Canal, and a couple of French warships, coming round 
the Cape, put into Aden for coal. The Governor was 
58 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

very polite to them, did ever\i;hing he could to make 
their stay pleasant. There was a big dinner, to %Yhich 
all the officers were invited, and a dance afterwards. 
Nobody asked them where they were bound, but they 
volunteered the information that it was Cochin China. 
The wine flowed freely ; every one had a good time ; 
and they did not weigh anchor till late in the morning. 
But they weren't going to Cochin China — at least 
not direct. They turned up at the supposed unoccupied 
island of Perim, to find, to their surprise, a flagstaff 
on the highest point of the island fljing the Union 
Jack, and a company of British m.arines calmly exer- 
cising on the shore. That's how we got Perim." {_^ 

" But how was it done ? " I queried. 

" Oh, a woman ! One of the young French officers 
confided to a girl at the dance. She told the Governor's 
aide-de-camp, and so, while the enemy slept, fifty men 
were hurriedlj^ embarked, and got there six hours in 
advance." 

In the morning the blue hills of Aden smiled at us 
over a sunlit sea. The vind was blowing freshly, for 
it was the season of the north-east monsoon. We were 
making for Cape Guardafui, on the Somaliland coast, 
running down the Gulf of Aden ; and all the next 
day we kept on the same course — an irregular line of 
blue low-lying hills representing Somaliland. Towards 
evening, however, the point of Guardafui became \'isible, 
and at ten o'clock, in the moonhght, we passed it, 
crouching like a huge hon, black and silent, guarding 
the land of Ophir beyond. I was up in the chart -room 
with the " Old Man " at the time. 

" We're in the Indian Ocean now," he said, pointing 
to the chart pinned out before him. " Now we'll alter 
the course to take us to the south of Sokotra, so as 

59 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

to have the shelter of the land while the north-easf 
monsoon is blowing. We're making next for Point 
de Galle, in Ceylon." 

So for the next week the monotony of the sea fell 
on us. Land we sometimes saw as an indefinite blue 
cloud ; otherwise there was nothing but the calm 
everlasting smile of the Indian Ocean. At first I used 
to look overboard, but soon I found myself doing so 
less and less ; and then I noticed that the others almost 
never thought of gazing over the side. The sailor is 
almost unconscious of the great world of water around 
him as long as everything is going on all right ; just 
as one becomes unconscious of the furniture in one's 
rooms when its position is not varied. It is only when 
some alteration strikes the eye and penetrates to the 
sensorium, that one becomes alive to the presence of 
inanimate things. As a consequence, however, of this 
out-world sameness I noticed I was becoming much 
more sensitive to the inner life of the ship, the technical 
details of its fittings, the speech and actions of the 
crew, the curious idiosyncrasies of the Chinese firemen. 

Pidgin English takes some time to learn. There are 
no " r's " in it. By some phonetic difficulty they 
become metamorphosed into " I's," and "rice" 
therefore is changed to " lice." 

China is such a vast, unwieldy country that several 
languages, or at any rate dialects, exist, so that the 
uneducated coolies of different provinces cannot under- 
stand one another. Pidgin English, which is a cor- 
ruption for " business English," is therefore used in all 
the " treaty ports " as a lingua franca, and one 
of the things that amuses the traveller most in the 
Far East is to hear two Chinamen of different localities 
gravely bargaining with one another in a language 
that irresistibly reminds him of comic opera. Most 
60 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

of our men were Cantonese, but we had one who could 
speak only his own dialect, and hadn't even any 
" pidgin." This man happened to get a bad finger, 
and so the No. 1 hauled him up before me. I tried 
him in my best " pidgin." 

No. 1 shook his head. 

" Bolong dam fool," he said, pointing to the man. 
" No can spik English. Bolong alleesame Swatow 
side." 

I ran a sharp bistuary through his finger, and then 
looked at him keenly. It must have been exquisitely 
painful, but the mask never moved, the dark twinkling 
eyes never faltered. He did not utter a sound or 
make a single movement. 

" All right ? " I said when all was over, and the finger 
dressed. 

" All-li," he answered firmly. 

" No can go bottom-side two-thlee day," I told the 
No. 1. 

"All-li," said No. 1. 

. . • * • 

The " Old Man " was still keen on the idea of 
reducing his weight, so after breakfast on the next 
day he had all the officers paraded on deck, a bo'sun's 
chair rigged up, and again every one's weight was 
solemnly taken down. He was lighter by five pounds ; 
the Chief was still the same ; and so there was only 
five pounds now between them. 

The Chief was evidently perturbed, though he tried 
not to show it. 

" You'll have to knock off beer if you don't want 
to be overhauled," I told him. 

" It isn't worth it this hot weather," he answered. 
" Besides, I know the ' Old Man.' He won't get below 
me before Pinang, and, once he gets ashore there, 

61 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

dining a single night will set him off again — you'll 
see." 

We spent the morning making deck quoits out of 
rope, under the directions of the mate. He produced 
a " fid " for the Chief and another for me — a 
" fid " is a sort of wooden marlinspike — and showed 
me how to push the point between the strands of rope 
and splice the ends together. The Chief was an 
expert. After several failures I managed to produce 
a fairly respectable-looking one. In the meanwhile 
the Chief had made five others. 

" That ought to be enough," he said. 

We marked out the " scoring board " in chalk on 
the deck. It is so arranged that any three areas in 
line make fifteen. Ten is taken off one's score if the 
disc falls into the nearest square, and ten is added 
on for the furthest away. The discs must lie entirely 
within the square, and it is part of the opponent's 
game to try to knock them out when they are favour- 
ably placed : 



/ 

- 10 off 


4 


3 


8 


; 10 on 

< 


9 


5 


1 


2 


7 


6 



There isWspecial rule'^about end scoring that makes 
the game much more exciting near the finish. 

We started playing in the first " Dog," the Chief 
and I against the Second and Fourth Engineers. 
The Fourth had a marvellously accurate eye. He 
seemed to be able to drop his quoit anywhere he 
liked. They beat us hollow. 
62 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

The Chief dropped doT^Ti exhausted in a chair. 
At that moment the " Old Man " passed us in his 
pyjamas on the way to his bath, looking like a boiled 
hippopotamus. He always had two hot baths a day 
in the Tropics, declaring it was the only way to keep 
cool. The Chief looked at the huge bulk of his 
retreating figure, and smiled. 

" AVhat is it ? " I said. 

" I'm thinking if I keep on playing quoits the ' Old 
Man ' won't have the ghost of a chance of getting below 
me," he said. 

The Chief is distinctly vv'iiy, I remembered, on 
thinking back, it Avas he who first suggested the idea 
of placing quoits. 



I do not think a European ever gets quite accustomed 
to the rapidity A^dth which day merges into night in 
the Tropics. At " one bell " (5.45 p.m.) the Chief 
and I went below to get ready for dinner. At six 
o'clock it was broad da^dight, " four bells " had gone, 
and the cook was late. We both went up on deck 
again to watch the sun, hanging like an immense molten 
red globe just over the horizon. As we watched, it 
touched the water (we almost fancied we could hear 
it sizzle) and began slowly to melt into a blood-red 
sea. ^Mien it had sunk half-way a black some- 
thing, like a dog leaping for a stick, silhouetted itself 
sharply against the fiery disc behind. It was a dolphin 
leaping for flying fish. Three minutes later all was 
gone, the dinner bell rang, and it was still clear day- 
light. At ten past six it was so dark the stewards had 
to SA\atch on all the lights in the mess-room. When 
we went on deck again for an after-dinner smoke it 
might have been midnight. The stars were out, though 

63 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

the " Southern Cross " had not yet risen over the 
horizon. 

As a constellation the " Cross " is a disappointment 
at first when one sees it, in the Red Sea, after leaving 
Suez. But it grows on one ; one gets to look out for 
it like an old friend ; one misses it when it's gone ; 
and hails it with delight again when it reappears, as 
we did steaming south beyond the Philippines. 

That evening, some hours later, as on many sub- 
sequent nights, we sat and smoked and looked at it 
shining down on us, dreaming the hours away till 
the clang of " five bells " brought us up regretfully. 

" Let's go and see what the Fourth's doing before 
you turn in," the Chief said ; and we got up 
slowly, moved cautiously along the dim-lit deck, and 
found our way down the series of breakneck ladders 
to the engine-room floor, where the Fourth was 
walking to and fro keeping his watch, pausing to look 
now at this, now at that, whilst a silent " greaser," 
oilcan in hand, crept here and there, in and out, oiling, 
oiling, oiling all the time. 

" We've tried mechanical oilers time and again, but 
they're no good," said the Chief. " They're a heart- 
break. Oiling requires intelligence." 

The Fourth stood quietly immobile while the 
Chief was around. He had nothing to say except 
" Yes, sir," and " No, sir," to any of his questions. 
The Chief had never seen him, as I had, the centre 
of a laughing group, springing some quaint conceit or 
laughing retort on those around. 

" Nice steady fellow," he said to me, when we had 
gone on deck again, and I agreed. 

" Bit slow," he added, and I smiled in the darkness, 
having seen him imitate the Chief's gait and manner 
to the life that very afternoon. 
64 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

Ash Wednesday is the Chinaman's New Year, and 
there was a general air of hohday when we arrived at 
their fo'castle on inspection. They had had extra 
rations of pork served out to them, and a present of 
some live ducks. Consequently every face was one 
large grin. 

" Have got Samshu ? " said the " Old Man." 

No. I's face clouded with regret. 

" No have got Samshu," he said. 

Samshu is a kind of alcoholic drink beloved of the 
Chinese. The " Old Man " was in high good-humour. 

" All right. Tell Chief Steward can have beer. One 
man, one pint beer. Savvy." 

No. 1 grinned widely. His eyes glistened with 
anticipation. 

" I savvy. All-li," he said. 

When we went up on the poop to look at the *' Patent 
Log," a series of concerted yells came out through the 
ventilators. 

" They're driving away the devils we introduced 
when we entered just now," said the Chief. " Polite, 
aren't they ! Crackers would have been better, but 
they haven't got any." 

Next morning at breakfast the " Old Man " re- 
marked : " We should sight Pulo Wai at ten 
o'clock to-night. That means you can have your 
breakfast ashore in Pinang two days hence, Doc." 

Then he turned to the Chief. 

" I should like a ' Chit ' some time this morning, 
Mr. Halahan, saying how much coal you have." 

" Very well, sir. I'll measure the bunkers after 
inspection." 

A few hours later the Chief threw himself down 
on a deck-chair beside me. 

" Ever heard of ' coal fever,' Doc. ? " 

E 65 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" It's not in the ' College of Physicians' List,' " I 
confessed. 

" Dare say ! Deuced nasty thing to have, all the 
same. The ' Old Man ' showed symptoms of it this 
morning when he asked for that ' Chit.' " 

" What's the main symptom ? " 

" A dread of not having enough coal to bring the 
ship into port. The ship's company got it badly 
last voyage. They had cause to. They were carrying 
pilgrims from Jeddah to Singapore, and the 'tween-decks 
had had to be kept empty. Consequently they only 
took what coal they absolutely needed at Port Said. 
The Chief said he had three days' supply left when the 
ship was then where she is now. In the ' middle watch ' 
he came to the ' Old Man ' : 

" ' I've miscalculated by fifty tons, sir,' he said. 

" They had passed Pulo Wai at the time ; and 
the ' Old Man ' was frantic. ' You've what ? ' he 
said. 

" ' I've miscalculated by fifty tons, sir,' the Chief 
repeated. 

" ' What the devil are we to do ? ' the ' Old Man ' 
said, marching up and down his cabin in his pyjamas 
in an agony. 

" ' I've shut down one boiler, sir.' The ' Old Man ' 
stopped and stared at him. 

" ' Can you make it do ? ' he shouted. ' If you 
can'tj by God, you're ruined in the company. It's as 
far back to the coal depot in Pulo Wai as to Pinang. 
Man, if we have to be towed in I'll never be able to 
hold up my head again. How the h — 1 did you manage 
it!' 

" They went on. I don't envy that Chief. He 
came up to report that all the coal was in the stoke- 
hole, and there wasn't a sign of land in sight. The 
66 




■I^ rf^ 







Kii K r!L(iuiMs iiA\ i\(; riiKJK iiKADS sii.w i:i> i;i:i<)i;k 

I.AXDI.NC AT .IIODUAII F<»i; M i:< < A 




JKBEL TIER, AN ISLAM) l.\ TJIE KJJD SKA, \>IA> AS A I'OST 
OFl'ICK DUUIXG TLIE AJiVSSIXlAX UAK 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

ship was swept of coal — every bit scraped together as 
if it had been diamonds. They crawled along at four 
knots an hour. 

" ' We'll have to cut up the derricks,' the ' Old 
Man ' said with a groan. 

" But they managed it — how they hardly knew. 
Steam ran out just as they reached their moorings. 
There wasn't enough coal left to start the ' donkey 
boiler.' They had to have some sent from the shore." 

" What happened to the Chief ? " I said. 

" Officially it was announced there was eight tons 
left. Decent of the ' Old Man '—wasn't it ? " 

That night we sighted Pulo Wai, an island on 
the north-west point of Sumatra. The " Old Man " 
by this time had got into the habit of sending for me 
when anything interesting was about, and, standing 
with him and the second mate on the bridge, we 
peered forward into the night. 

The second mate had the best eyes of the three. 

" There it is, sir," he said suddenly. 

The " Old Man " looked. " Yes," he said. 

I confessed that I could see nothing. 

" We're forty miles off. It's a five-second flare 
every minute," said the " Old Man." " Watch carefully 
over that second ventilator on the fo'castle head to 
starboard. Time, Mr. Horner ? " 

" Ten seconds still, sir." 

Presently he snapped his watch. " Now, sir." 

It came, a glow far out on the edge of the horizon ; 
then suddenly burst into a bright light like that of a 
falling star, and as suddenly went out again. 

Sixty seconds fled, and again it was repeated. 

"That's all, Doc," said the "Old Man." "I'll 
run in as close as I can to let you see the Achin coast 
in the morning." 

m 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

He was as good as his word. At " seven bells," 
on the way to my bath, I saw the coast rising wild, 
rugged, and mountainous all along for miles behind and 
in front of us, culminating inland in one great peak, 
the " Golden Chersonese," from which the fabled 
gold of Ophir is said to have come. It is a wild and 
rugged land, this Achin — a land of old romance. Once 
the seat of a mighty empire, its sultans made treaty 
with Queen Elizabeth. Under its great leader, 
" Iskander Muda," it raised an armada of five hundred 
sail, manned by 60,000 men, to fight the Portuguese. 
It was by the aid of the Achinese the Dutch eventually 
took Malacca, broke the power of the Portuguese, and 
established their ascendancy in the Malay Archipelago. 
That quaintly pious buccaneer, the inimitable Dampier, 
sailed in a native prau from the Nicobar Islands to 
Achin, after he had been marooned. He says : 

" Being now arrived at Achin again, I think it not 
amiss to give the reader some short account of what 
observations I made of that city and country. This 
kingdom is the largest and best peopled of many small 
ones that are up and down the isle of Sumatra. . . . 
There is one hill more remarkable than ordinary, 
especially to seamen. The English call it the Golden 
Mount, but whether this name is given it by the natives, 
or only by the English, I know not. 'Tis near the 
N.W. end of the island ; and Achin stands but five 
or six miles from the bottom of it. 'Tis very large 
at the foot, and runs up smaller towards the head ; 
which is raised so high as to be seen at sea thirty or 
forty leagues. This was the first land that we saw 
coming in our proe from the Nicobar Islands. The 
rest of the land, though of a good height, was then 
undiscerned by us, so that this mountain appeared 



THE INDIAN OCEAN 

like an island in the sea ; which was the reason why 
our Achin Malayans took it for Pulo Way. . . . But 
that island, tho' pretty high champion land, was 
invisible, when this Golden Mount appeared so plain, 
tho' as far distant as that island." 

It was a land of much gold and great trade in those 
days. The ubiquitous Chinaman was then, as now, 
the great trader in the Far East ; and a great fair was 
held in June every year, lasting two or three months. 
The laws of the country were very strict. Malefactors 
were severely punished — arms and legs were cut off — 
and they were generally banished to Pulo Wai ; so 
that " on Pulo Way there are none but this sort of 
cattle ; and tho' they all of them want one or both 
hands, yet they so order matters that they can row 
very well, and do many things to admiration, whereby 
they are able to get a livelihood." 

But all this is a thing of the past. The glory is 
departed. No longer have the sultans droves of 900 
tame elephants. The hand of the Dutch has fallen 
heavily on the Achinese. For more than two hundred 
years they lived at peace under the shadowy protection 
of England. Thirty years ago that protection was 
withdrawn in return for some barren concessions in 
Ashanti. England gave up all her historic rights in 
the huge island of Sumatra, and the Dutch immediately 
picked a quarrel — the quarrel of Naboth. It is probable 
that in the same position we should have done the 
same, for truly we cannot afford to cast reflections on 
the Dutch, since as land-grabbers we are easily supreme. 
Besides, the Dutch share our genius for governing and 
colonising, if indeed they do not excel us. 

The Dutch have taken two hundred years to spread 
over Sumatra. They have been fighting the Achinese 

69 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

for thirty years, and have not conquered them yet. 
They have lost thousands of men through wounds and 
disease in Achin, these natives proving unexpectedly 
difficult to " pacify," the spirit of their ancient fame 
evidently surviving the decay of their body politic. 

Eventuall}^ of course, they will be civilised. At 
present they have a very uncivilised habit of thinking 
the Dutch robbers, and treating them in the way their 
forefathers treated malefactors in the time of Dampier. 
When they capture a Dutchman they return him 
minus a nose or limb, and the Dutch do not like it. 

When we were going into Batavia some months 
later, we passed a troopship bound for Padang, crowded 
with soldiers to hurry up civilisation. Perhaps you 
wonder why the Dutch are bothering about it at all. 
The answer is that there are great quantities of gold 
and tin and oil in the interior which the Achinese will 
not let the financiers get at — very childish of them, 
and very irritating to the financiers. So more and 
more drafts of fine, big, boyish, Dutch soldiers are being 
sent out from Europe to die of fever in the swamps, in 
order that the financiers may get at the gold more 
quickly — ^that is to say, in order that " they may 
have an opportunity of opening up the resources of the 
country, and of bringing peace and security of life 
and property, under the aegis of the Hollander flag, 
to a country erstwhile torn with internecine stiife." 
Substitute the Union Jack for the Dutch tricolour, 
and it is obvious that, if we claimed Sumatra, we 
would be doing exactly as the Dutch are doing now. 



70 



PINANG 

The pageant of the Orient : 'Rickishaws : An encounter 
with one of the Lost Legion : The fascination of the half- 
caste ; Concerning Japanese tea-houses : Malay philosophy : 
The gentle art of piracy ; The tragedy of a sampan : Chang 
Wan Loo and tailoring by lightning : A morning climb : The 
luxury of the Malay bath s Women in the Far East i The 
unexpected behaviour of the Klings : An aside on frock-coats : 
To the memory of Captain Light 



CHAPTER III 

Next morning some one shouted down my ventilator, 
" Hi, Doc. ! Get up ! We're in sight of Pinang." 

It was about half-past six, and I rushed on deck 
as I was. This was what I had come 8000 miles to see, 
and every moment lost seemed wasted. It was twenty- 
one days since we had touched solid ground, and my 
feet ached to be ashore again. 

The first impression was of a wonderful green : the 
land seemed smothered in vegetation. It rose pre- 
cipitous from the water's edge, crag upon crag of naked 
rock jutting out grey amongst the green, with here and 
there the white outlines of verandahed bungalows, 
perched perilously on the heights, which, half hidden 
in the verdure, rose higher and higher, and culminated 
finally in one great peak 2700 feet above the sea. 

Passing Muka Head, a promontory on the extreme 
north-west end of the island, we swung round a red buoy 
for Georgetown, running between the island and the 
mainland. The deep blue of the Indian Ocean had 
ceased, and the water was a milky-white. The main- 
land, known as Province Wellesley, once part of the 
kingdom of Kedah, was a green belt of palm-trees, 
fringing a yellow strand, stretching back to the blue 
hills behind. 

All around us lay crazy-looking fishing praus, with bat- 
wing palm-leaf sails, brown and yellow, patched to the 
limit of patchiness, manned by half-naked, copper- 

73 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

coloured Malayans. Stakes sticking out in the water 
in rows showed where they hung their nets. 

All along the yellovf strip of sandy shore on the Pinang 
side, hidden amongst the green of the palm-trees, the 
brown thatched atap-roofs of native huts drew one's 
eye to the houses standing on their bamboo props. 

Breakfast over, I watched the panorama spread before 
me : Rat Island with its column and its solitary 
Buddhist priest, the undulating outline of Pinang, the 
dark green of Province Wellesley, and over all the deep 
blue sky. 

We anchored opposite the jetty in thirteen fathoms of 
water, and the first thing that struck us was that it 
had suddenly become intensely hot — we were no longer 
making a breeze for ourselves. The next impression was 
that we were being boarded by pirates. They came from 
every side, sampan racing sampan for which would be 
first to reach the lowered gangway. They tumbled on 
deck in heaps from every quarter. In five minutes 
they had penetrated to every corner of the ship — 
Parsees, Malays, Klings, Chinamen, and Eurasians. 
There were money-changers with bags, clinking the 
large silver Straits Settlements dollar, cigar merchants 
selling Burmah cheroots, tailors wanting to measure 
one for white suits, men with fruit of tropical luscious- 
ness, boys with the inevitable picture-postcards. 

Almost before the engines had stopped a series 
of lighters, with great bamboo masts and yards, began 
to arrange themselves around the ship. Scores of 
brown, half -naked, turbaned coolies swarmed on board, 
opened the hatches, and with naked feet on the levers 
started the steam winches running. In an almost 
incredibly short period after our arrival cargo was 
going over the side into the empty lighters, and khaki- 
clad Chinese tally-clerks in puggarees, standing one 
74 



PINANG 

at each hatch, were checking the loads as they rose 
from the hold. 

The heat was sweltering. Every one was busy — 
the officers looking after the cargo, the " Old Man " 
closeted with the agent, the Chief seeing about 
the supply of fresh water which was being pumped 
from lighters into the tanks. 

The Chief Steward was going ashore to order fresh 
provisions, so we took a sampan together. The sampan 
is the universal boat of the East, It varies slightly 
in different places, but materially it is a cross between 
a gondola and a punt. In Pinang it is rowed with two 
broad sweeps, the rower, or rowers, standing erect facing 
the direction of progress. 

Our man rowed with a powerful swing against the 
tide, the muscles of his arms and legs rippling under- 
neath the coppery skin like a living bronze statue, 
his face in deep shadow underneath his sugar-loaf 
palmetto hat. 

He ran us neatly alongside the landing stage, crowded 
to overflowing with passengers coming and going, and 
loungers looking on. A detachment of Sikhs belonging 
to the " Malay Guides " had landed in front of us. 
They were forming up on the pier as we got ashore, 
tali, grave men, eagle-featured, bearded like the pard, 
very gorgeously Oriental in their uniform, towering 
head and shoulders over the little Malay troops alongside. 

A bronzed English officer at their head uttered a 
sharp, quick word of command, and like a machine 
the whole mass moved forward up the pier, like a w^dge 
through a lane of brown and yellow faces. 

We followed in their wake. It was with difficulty 
I could persuade myself that I was not looking on at 
a theatrical performance — the cosmopolitan crowd 
composed of every nation in the East appeared so tricked 

75 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

out for effect, the vivid colouring of the Orient smote 
the eye so insistently. Impressions followed one another 
so rapidly that, when I tried to recollect them after- 
wards, my mind was a confused palimpsest of primary 
colours and grinning Celestials — for the Chinaman is 
everywhere, he makes up more than half the population, 
he apparently does nearly all the work, and he evidently 
has the monopoly of retail trade. 

When we got to the bottom of the landing stage we 
saw two long rows of 'rickishaws, one on either side. 
The owners of the nearest two leapt across the road, 
whirled their light vehicles round, and stood grinning 
till we each mounted. They too were Chinamen. All 
the 'rickishaw men in the Straits Settlements are Chinese. 
The Malay is much too lazy to compete with them, 
nor has he the physical stamina. 

My man was dressed in bathing drawers, a sugar- 
loaf hat, and a broad smile. The calves of his legs 
and the muscles of his back were an anatomical joy. 
The other man wore a loose baju jacket as well. 

They stood holding the shafts of the 'rickishaws, 
waiting for directions where to go. I had not yet 
acquired any knowledge of Malay, so I shouted to the 
Chief Steward : " You tell them where to go. Any- 
where's the same to me." He did so, and we whirled 
off. 

Malay is the lingua franca of the Settlements. 
Every one speaks it — Chinese, British, Dutch, Indian. 
It is the simplest language in the world to learn, and 
one of the most beautiful to hear spoken. The Malay has 
wakened up to find his land taken from him, his country 
invaded by every nation on earth ; he has shrugged his 
shoulders, and gone to sleep again ; but somehow or 
other he has imposed his language on the conquerors. 
When a Dutch planter from Sumatra comes over to 
76 



PINANG 

Pinang on business, if he does not know English, he talks 
to the English clerks in the offices in Malay ; when he 
traffics with the wily Chinaman he does the same. The 
Malay is so lazy his language must be simple. If it were 
otherwise he wouldn't trouble to speak. There is a 
" Pukka Malay " used in literature and in addressing 
high native dignitaries. It is studied by learned 
pundits, and spoken in the presence of rajahs ; but 
that does not concern the man in the street — ^he uses 
the vernacular. 

We sped along wide open streets lined by Chinese 
shops, past patient oxen dragging springless carts ; past 
itinerant merchants carrying their stock-in-trade in 
large hemispherical baskets, slung, one on either end of 
a long bamboo pole, over one shoulder and held by 
the corresponding arm, whilst the unoccupied hand 
worked a wooden rattle to attract the attention of 
possible customers ; past big Sikh policemen, who gravely 
saluted when we paused to look at them ; past Chinese 
temples, dragon-haunted, lantern-hung, along a gaily 
decorated road ; past an open space where little pig- 
tailed Chinese boys were playing football, bare-footed, 
with the temperature at 95° F. Other 'rickishaws 
met us, carrying pale-faced Europeans dressed in white, 
with white pith helmets like ourselves. They all stared 
at us. Sometimes a passing 'rickishaw would carry 
a portly Chinese merchant, or a Chinese woman with 
death-like, white-chalked face and henna'd lips, or 
little Chinese girls with tinsel crowns and flowers in their 
hair — for the celebration of the Chinese New Year was 
not yet over. 

A man in a passing 'rickishaw craned round as I 
passed, shouted something, and my runner stopped. 
His man turned round. 

77 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Well, I'm jiggered ! " he said. 

" Me too, Henderson," I said ; and naturally so, since 
I had not seen him for eight years. 

" What on earth brings you here ? " he said. 

" Ship's surgeon. And you ? " 

" Rubber ! Perak ! Hole of a place ! Spend my 
time gently persuading my Chinks with a revolver 
not to run away to the tin-mines in too great numbers 
for my directors' comfort. Sick to death of it. I'm 
over here for a holiday." 

" It's a bit of a change from reading for the Bar," 
I hazarded. 

" Moral suasion for legal suasion," he said. " Always 
was fond of the bar," he added sardonically. 

I had been trying to remember what it was. Of 
course that was it : " Too fond of the bar." 

" Who's your pal ? " he said. 

I looked up. The Chief Steward's runner had stopped, 
and turned half round. The whole rencontre was 
awkv/ard in the extreme. I had never known Hender- 
son well, and the Chief Steward was the Chief Steward. 
With me — a shipmate — he was all right, but with Hender- 
son The Chief Steward was a very decent fellow, 

and I would not have hurt his feelings for the world. 

" It's deuced hot here," said Henderson. " Let's all 
adjourn for a quencher." 

An unexpected relief came to me. The world, after 
all, is a small place, and one's faculty for astonishment 
quickly exhausts itself. We pulled up alongside the 
Chief Steward. 

" I wasn't sure it was you when you passed, and I 
looked round," said the Steward. " I was surprised, 
though, to see you talking to our doctor." 

Henderson had been staring at him. Then his eyes 
brightened suddenly. 
78 




"THE MALAY I^;, OF ALL ■J'1IIN( ;^;. A I'l 1 1 LoSOl"! lEK. UK S(^l A IS 
IX THE WARM SUX AXD CHEWS BETEL COXTEXTEDLY " (See p. 84) 













MOxiT OF THE OLD FoKT, TIXAXG 



PINANG 

" Gee whiz," he said. " Why, it's Bruce." He turned 
to me : " D — n it. We went through the Cuban war 
together, fighting for the Yanks. This bangs Banagher. 
Come on, you fellows." 

He gave an order in fluent Malay, and soon we were 
stringing after his 'rickishaw along the straight white 
road. Turning a corner, we sped for a short distance 
along a quiet side street, and finally drew up at the 
porticoed doorway of a restaurant. He led the way 
into a big, cool, columned room with an open roof, and a 
fountain of running water in the centre of the marble 
floor. There were lots of little marble-topped tables 
and Indian cane lounges around, and it was a great 
relief after the glaring sunshine outside to drop limply 
into a chair, and listen to the grateful plashing of the 
water. Already the other two were rapidly comparing 
reminiscences, and retailing subsequent experiences. 
The proprietor now appeared, a smiling, soft-footed 
Hungarian. It was evident Henderson was persona 
grata in the house. 

"My shout! What'll you fellows have?" he said. 
Presently the proprietor's daughter appeared, very 
plump, very black-eyed, very pale-faced, very black- 
haired. Again it was evident that Henderson was 
very much at home. 

She sat and chatted with us amiably, with a large, 
good-natured coquettishness : Had we seen the decora- 
tions ? Weren't they fine ? What ! We didn't know what 
they were for ! Hadn't we heard the Duke of Connaught 
was to be here on Monday, coming up from Singapore? 
Ah, of course we had only arrived that morning. 
Pinang — ^no, it was not as gay as Singapore ; but then 
Pinang had the " Crag." The " Crag " was delightful 
— so cool ; Singapore people envied them the " Crag " ; 
they had no place where they could get cool. We must 

79 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

really go and see the " Crag." She talked on easily. 
We were half somnolent. Her big black eyes turned 
from one to the other eloquently. She moved her plump 
hands, dead white with a sub-cuticular duskiness, as she 
talked. Once she touched Henderson's casually, and 
he raised his eyes to hers. When she moved, her body 
fell into voluptuous curves. Her thick round lips 
smiled continuously. She betrayed her native blood 
in the swinging silence of her movements, in the deferen- 
tial, eager way she listened to any casual remark of ours, 
in her Oriental taste in scents, in her look of perfect ease 
in the heat, in the almost imperceptible oiliness of her 
skin, in the deft way she managed her cigarette, in 
a thousand-and-one other little ways that could not be 
defined. 

After an interval I caught the Steward's eye. 

" I must be going ! I've got to see the ship's compra- 
dor, and get back," he said. 

" Me too," I said. 

Henderson protested. Why hurry ? It wasn't every 
day, &c. &c. He was very comfortable, and why 
shouldn't we make an evening of it ? He didn't feel 
inclined to move. The daughter of the house dropped 
her big black lashes over her big black eyes, and smiled. 
Her fingers under the cover of his glass pressed Hender- 
son's for a moment, and were gone. No ! He was 
dashed if he'd move ! Let the 'rickishaw men wait. 
That's what they were for. Well, if we must be going 
— see us again to-morrow. No ! Filled up to-morrow ! 
Well, perhaps next day ! It wasn't every day one saw 
one's old pals, &c. &c. 

We left it at that. He ordered another drink, and 
lay back. I turned at the doorway. The black-eyed 
daughter of the house was handing it, leaning over him, 
smiling down into his eyes. 
80 



PINANG 

We did not see him again. I don't suppose we ever 
shall. The world is full of Hendersons. I remembered 
his people — his nice old mother in a lace cap, his two 
proud sisters — and wondered what they would think 
if they could see Henderson, sitting soaking at the other 
end of the world, smiled on by the half-caste daughter 
of a saloon-keeper. Perhaps it was just as well they 
did not know. Sometimes I have idly wondered since 
what has become of Henderson. Probably he is back 
in Perak making dividends for you and the other people 
who dabble in rubber. Sometimes I have wondered 
is the black-eyed daughter of the saloon-keeper with him. 
Perhaps not. Perhaps, after all, it never came to any- 
thing. Perhaps he's dead. I shouldn't wonder. People 
like Henderson do not last. 

We found the ship's comprador, a big greasy Bengalee, 
having his afternoon siesta, and, the ship's business done, 
turned for the pier again. The Steward's 'rickishaw 
stopped suddenly, and I drew level. 

" Say, Doc. ! That's a Japanese tea-house. Would 
you like to go in ? It'll not be quite the thing, but you'll 
get an idea before we get there." 

We entered into a stone hall. A brick staircase 
ran up from it, the steps washed as scrupulously clean 
as an operating theatre in a hospital. Three pairs of 
Japanese sandals lay on the lowermost steps. We 
mounted and found our way into a room looking on the 
street. There was no glass in the windows, string 
bead-curtains letting in a subdued light. The room 
was without furniture, except for a divan, and a round 
table in the centre of the floor. Presently a petite figure 
shuffled in, smiling joyously, showing her beautiful white 
teeth, her little white tabi peeping below the grey 
kimono, her slit -like eyes twinkling, her coal-black 

F 81 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

hair a chetal defrise of combs. She brought us chairs 
to sit on. 

*' We won't get these in Japan, nor the table either," 
he said. 

" Coffee ? " — Yes, we could have coffee. 

She tripped away to get it. It came in two cups, 
like those one sees in restaurants used for Bovril, one 
labelled " Remember me," the other " Forget me 
not." There were things with them like china medicine 
spoons. 

" This is not in the picture," he said. 

While we had our coffee she sat cross-legged on a 
cushion on the divan smoking a cigarette out of a little 
Japanese pipe, and conversing with us as if she had 
known us all her life. 

" That's all right," he said. 

I looked on as a spectator while he talked. I was 
beyond my depth in the bandied Japanese expressions. 
What I could make out was this : 

" Belong Yokohama ? No savvy Yokohama. No 
savvy Kobe. No savvy Nagasaki. Savvy Pinang." 
Apparently she had been born in Pinang. 

" Make love ? No savvy. No can. Number 1 
fine girl house opposite — she all right; me no good. 
Have got sweetheart ? No savvy," smiling all the 
time. 

" This is not in the bill either. Doc." 

It was all strange to me, but I was learning. 

On board the ship, when we got back, it was vastly 
more cool ; but the noise was incessant. The simplest 
manoeuvre seemed to require an enormous amount of 
shouting amongst the coolies. Every one gave his 
opinion, no one paid any attention to that of the other ; 
but the work went on relentlessly, for the company 
82 



PINANG 

has its reputation to keep up of clearing cargo more 
quickly than any other in the East, working, as they do, 
night and day in every port. At intervals whole gangs 
would cease, and squat down in circles around the 
curry-cooks, who prepared their periodic meals in 
various corners of the ship, beating up the fresh curries 
in great wooden bowls held between their prehensile 
toes. Afterwards they would fall to again with renewed 
vigour, another lighter would be filled, and, raising its 
great bamboo yard and latticed sail, glide quietly off 
in the eye of the westering sun. 

These coolies are not Malays. They are locally known 
as " Klings," and are imported from the Deccan in 
Southern India. The Malay would scorn to labour as 
they do. He has the aristocratic contempt for toil 
which Mohammedanism seems to breed in many races. 
He does not mind being a policeman, for then, with his 
thin rattan, he can beat any Chinaman he has a special 
grudge against with impunity. He likes being a soldier, 
swaggering in uniform, and letting off a gun occasionally. 
He cannot understand the rooted objection we have to 
his being a pirate ; it is one of his lasting regrets that this 
pleasant method of adding to the gaiety of nations is no 
longer permissible. It is only within recent years it 
has been stopped in British waters ; it still occurs 
sporadically in Dutch territory. The pilot who brought 
us into Singapore told us some things about them. 
¥/hat he did not tell us was that his own wife had been 
butchered before his eyes when he was captain of a 
coasting schooner, and his ship taken one moonless 
night, thirty years before. 

" He never speaks of that," said the " Old Man." 
The Malay has a vast contempt for the Chinaman. 
In the old days when he owed him money, and the 
Chinaman worried him for payment, that Chinaman 

83 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

was removed ; he joined his ancestral ghosts. We have 
stopped all that too, very abruptly and painfully ; the 
Malay doesn't quite understand why. It seems so 
obviously the right thing to " rob " the infidel ; the 
pigtail seems so specially designed to be caught hold of, 
and the nice wriggly " kris " the weapon fore-ordained 
for the work. He cannot see why we should object. 
Still, he does his best to bear us no ill-will. It is obvious 
we do not know a good thing when we see it. Our 
short-sightedness grieves him. He is sorry for us. 

The Malay is, of all things, a philosopher. He squats 
in the warm sun and chews betel contentedly. He sees 
the obvious foolishness of working in a country too 
hot for toil, when the earth is so prolific that a fortnight's 
leisurely labour will produce food for a year, and the 
water so plentifully supplied with fish that an hour 
in the cool of the evening with a net will supply luxury 
for a fortnight. He looks with a contemplative pity 
at the yellow man toiling in the heat of the day, and with 
continual surprise at the white man for not appro- 
priating the fruits of the yellow man's labour, since he 
so obviously has the power to do so. 

I sat in my deck-chair watching the harbour lazily. 
It was a continuous panorama of things strange, 
bizarrely curious. 

A huge Chinese junk, looking like a model of the 
Crreat Harry, with enormous painted eyes on either 
side her bow to see with in the night, and a castellated 
structure in the stern, reminiscent of Elizabethan 
romance, dropped anchor a couple of cable lengths away, 
and quickly made her presence felt by the odour of 
rotten fish brought to us on the land breeze. Sampans 
and little steam launches shot continuously back- 
wards and forwards across the harbour. A long 
84. 



PINANG 

black boat under great cone-shaped sails glided rapidly 
past. It looked snakishly wicked and fast. After- 
wards I grew familiar with the type. It was a Bugis 
prau from Macassar, where I saw hundreds of them, 
and was the kind of boat beloved of the now extinct 
pirates. 

Presently a big P. & O. from Singapore came across 
our field of vision, with the " Blue Peter " flying at the 
fore, dropped anchor, swung down her gangways, dis- 
charged some passengers, picked up some more from 
the tender, took in a sampan-load or two of fruit, weighed 
anchor, and was off again. 

A crowd of sampans drew away from her as she 
started, and the sound of bursting crackers came from 
several of them. They were Chinese sampans, and 
their owners were thereby frightening away any devils 
that might have managed to slip unobserved from the 
P. & O. to them, that kind of devil being known to be 
particularly malevolent. 

Abaft the galley a sampan had hitched on to a lighter. 
It was evidently the home of a complete Chinese family, 
any one of whom, except the baby in arms, was capable 
of working the boat. The eldest daughter of the house, 
alone in the boat, was busy preparing a meal, 
apparently a feast. She had got a chicken, and, after 
the manner of the Chinese, had cut it up, preparatory 
to cooking, into innumerable small pieces, washing every 
portion carefully, wasting absolutely nothing — not even 
the head and feet. Everything finished, she placed 
the portions carefully on a platter, and went aft to do 
something. I happened to be leaning over the rail 
near the galley at the time. Unfortunately the Fourth 
Steward also appeared, at that moment, on the well- 
deck below. He had been cleaning up the " Glory 
Hole," and, contrary to all regulations, port and ship 

85 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

alike, without ever looking over the side, and before 
I could give a shout of warning, he suddenly shot 
a whole bucketful of filthy, greasy water over the 
gunwale. It caught the sampan, it caught the dish, 
it caught the carefully divided chicken, fair and square, 
and the whole collection was swept neatly into the 
water, where it rapidly floated away in the tide. I 
shouted, of course, when it was too late. With chap- 
fallen face the steward gazed over the side. A storm 
of abuse greeted him from that sampan. She cursed 
him, his father and mother, sisters and brothers, uncles 
and aunts, ancestors to the third, offspring to the fourth 
generation. The steward fled. She looked then as if 
she meant to turn the vials of her wrath on me, 
but a big Singapore dollar, dropped into the boat, altered 
the whole horizon, a chicken being worth not more 
than fourpence. An expansive grin spread violently 
across her unattractive face. She quickly let loose from 
the lighter, and the last I sav/ of her was the disappear- 
ing outline of the sampan making shorewards for 
another chicken. 



Returning to the saloon deck, I fell into the hands 
of " Chang Wan Loo " — a tailor, very fat, very 
oleaginous, very obsequious, v/ith enormous alpaca 
trousers, fifteen sizes too big for him. The Chief 
said that in spite of the cut of his trousers he was a 
good tailor ; so I asked him if I could have three white 
suits made, washed, and delivered before seven o'clock 
the next morning. He was eloquently helpless when 
I made the demand. It seemed a lot ; but the Chief 
said : " Stick to it." 

" Dhoby-men (washermen), Pinang side, no good. 
Chinamen, New Yeah, plenty Samshu, plenty Hocshu. 
86 



PINANG 

Dhoby men all dlunk. Tailoh men all-li. Can makee 
clo. No can makee wash." 

I hardened my heart. 

" All right. Maskee. Can get, Singapore side, plenty 
much more cheap." 

That settled him. The clothes turned up, beautifully 
made, beautifully washed, next morning. I gave him 
an extra dollar, promptly ordered half a dozen more 
suits, and also wrote him a testimonial which, no doubt, 
is now helping to persuade vacillating new arrivals of 
the incomparable merit of Chang Wan Loo. 

The " Old Man " and I had arranged over-night to 
ascend to the Crag Hotel on the morrow ; and so the 
steward called me at daybreak. 

" Captain says the launch will be here in half an hour, 
sir. I'd better pack you three suits." 

" But I'm only off for the day," I said in surprise. 

He grinned. 

" Need 'em all, sir." 

" And it's pleasure I'm out for," I groaned. 

I found the " Old Man " struggling with the in- 
tricacies of a bow when a warning hoot told us the 
launch was coming. 

" D — n the thing. I'll never get it right," he said, 
his face red with irritation. 

I tried for him, but found it difficult to reverse in my 
mind. Then I had an inspiration. 

" If I stand behind you, captain, I can tie it over 
your shoulders, in front of the glass." 

It worked. The " Old Man's " face was wreathed 
in smiles. He got into his coat rapidly as a knock came 
at the door. .i 

" Come in," he said ; and the steward announced 
"Mr. Maurice." 

87 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

There is something fascinatingly neat and trim in the 
spotless whiteness and semi-military cut of the dress 
of the Englishman in the Far East. Every one looks 
well in it. 

Maurice, to whom I took an instant liking the moment 
I saw his smiling bronzed face under the white helmet, 
looked the part to perfection. 

" I wouldn't bother about carrying a watch, if I were 
you, Doc. ; and don't bring any money either. We can 
sign ' chits ' for anything we want," he said. 

Accordingly I discarded the watch and money. 
" We never carry jewellery or money about in 
Pinang," he told me later in explanation. " You see, 
we're one white man to three hundred coloured. We 
have to keep up our personal prestige, and so we try 
to avoid tempting any one to rob, or steal, from the 
person by having nothing valuable about us. Every 
one signs ' chits ' for everything, and they are pres- 
ented once a month, and paid by cheque on one's 
bank." 

" Chit " signing is universal in the Far East. No one 
ever thinks of paying in money. Two men will stroll 
into an hotel, play a game of billiards, order iced drinks 
and cigars, sit smoking on the verandah for an hour, 
and then one will call out : 
" Boy ! Chit ! " 

A silent Chinaman will appear with a " chit-book " 
on a salver. 

One of the men will pick it up : 
" How much, boy ? " 
" Twoa doUa, hifty cent." 

He will tear out a " chit," write " I owe two dollars 
fifty cents. Billiards, &c,," date it, sign his name 
and address, and hand it to the boy, who as likely 
as not has never seen him before. It will turn up at his 



PINANG 

office or residence at the end of the month, be duly met, 
and then destroyed. 

The little launch, with its smartly uniformed Malay 
crew, ran us quickly to the pier. It was about half 
past seven in the morning, and beautifully cool. We 
drove in a tica-gharrhy along the straight wide palm- 
lined road, with its white bungalows far back among 
the trees, each peeping through a wealth of tropical 
vegetation. Halting at the " Club " to pick up 
Maurice's suit case, we soon were again speeding towards 
the foot of the hill, passing on the way many of the 
gorgeously gold-lettered, marble-columned, lantern- 
hung bungalows of the wealthy Chinese merchants, 
which for the most part quite outshone in display those 
of the dominant race. The " Old Man " grunted 
disapproval of the sight. 

" The Dutch don't let them lord it like that in Java. 
Chinks can only live in certain parts of the towns there. 
There was a wealthy Chinaman in Soerabaya who built 
a beautiful house for himself, and when it was finished 
found it was just outside the area in which a Chinaman 
was permitted to live. It cost him 100,000 guilders 
to build, and it's never been occupied. He can't 
live in it himself; he can't rent it, for no Dutchman 
would be his tenant ; he can't sell it to a Dutchman, 
for it is too near China town for comfort," the " Old 
Man " said. " So there it is derelict." 

Maurice laughed. 

" Our Chinamen are very loyal here. It was quite 
comical during the South African War to hear pig- 
tailed, slit-eyed fellows talking of ' we Britishers — 
our defeats — our successes.' " 

" D d cheek," muttered the " Old Man." 

Gradually the bungalows ceased, and the country grew 

89 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

more primitive. Native " campongs," with rickety, 
stilted, brown thatched atap huts, appeared. Primitive 
open native shops on the road-side, brown babies rolling 
in the dust, little boys driving fierce-looking water- 
buffaloes, were constant sights. Groves of peepil, 
tamarind, and cocoa-nut trees, plantains, mangoes, 
and bananas, lined the road on either side. 

We stopped eventually at the foot of the hill, opposite 
a rude shelter from which came a wild rush of copper- 
coloured men in sarongs, with unkempt black locks 
straggling from beneath gay-coloured turbans. 

These were " Klings " waiting to carry one's luggage 
up the hill. Maurice picked out three, and we started 
to ascend on foot. It was now about nine o'clock 
and already it was getting appreciably hotter. The path 
wound steadily upwards in sinuous, serpentine coils 
amongst the hills. For the most part it lay in the 
shadow of the overhanging trees. New vistas continu- 
ally opened as we ascended — glimpses of valleys dense 
with jungle timber, with here and there a bungalow 
perched on a craggy point. The path cut its way 
through masses of coarse botryoidal sandstone, with 
here and there a jutting grey mass of igneous rock 
outcropping. Groves of bamboo whispered murmur- 
ously at intervals, and creeping, vivid-leaved bougain- 
villea vines, enormously long, wound for hundreds 
of yards, interlacing amongst the njamploeng trees. 
It was very still except for the sound of our footsteps, 
till at irregular, and ever startling, intervals the cicadas 
broke in with their unexpected rasping rattle. 

The " Old Man " plodded doggedly upwards, and we 
followed, accommodating our speed to his, the coolies, 
with our baggage perched on their heads, swinging 
easily in the rear. 

Once a pale-faced European, slung in a dhooly, 
90 



PINANG 

carried by six men, swept past us down the hill ; and 
once a Chinese lady, going to take the air, passed us 
upwards, carried by four men, sitting in her sedan 
chair with whitened cheeks, immovable as a graven 
image. 

I watched a dark patch start on the broad back 
of the " Old Man," and spread till his Jacket, soaked 
in perspiration, clung to him like a glove. 

" It's getting deuced hot," he said, as he stopped 
to mop his face, now the colour of a well-boiled lobster. 

" You're taking pounds off your weight," I reminded 
him, by way of encouragement. 

That stimulated him for another half-mile. 

" I'm melting away, and you fellows haven't turned 
a hair," he said, at length, alter an interval. 

" The half-way house is round the next turn," said 
Maurice. 

" Lord ! Are we only half vv^ay ? " he groaned. 

The " Half-way House " was a nipah-thatched roof 
supported on corner posts. We were all glad of a rest 
when we reached it, and sat there while we smoked 
a cigarette apiece, fanning ourselves at intervals with 
our helmets. When Maurice suggested starting again 
the " Old Man " w^as very loath to move. 

" If it weren't for the thought of the long iced drink 
at the top, I couldn't do it," he said. 

" It's the bath I'm thinking of," said Maurice. " Ever 
had a Malay bath, Doc. ? No ! Well, you'll enjoy 
it all the more then." 

By this time the heat had become sweltering. The 
winding path seemed endless. We plodded on in 
silence. Even Maurice began to feel it, and it was with 
a sigh of relief that he said at last : 

" The next turn will bring us to the top, and the 
hotel, captain." 

91 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The hotel was quite unlike anything usually asso- 
ciat«ed with the name. It was more like a village of 
bungalows perched here and there alongside winding 
shady paths, grouped around one big central spacious 
dining-hall, standing on a platform of granite which was 
evidently the core of the long extinct volcano that had 
given birth to the island. 

Our room was one of a row of twenty in a long one- 
storeyed, wooden, verandahed building of sleeping 
apartments intended for bachelors, so arranged that 
the wind swept through them from the open balcony 
behind, which projected over a precipice with a sheer 
drop of several hundred feet to the jungle-clad ravines 
below. 

Depositing our traps on the floor, the coolies were 
dismissed, to squat contentedly in the shade for hours 
till we should require them again. A solemn Chinese 
waiter stood like a Buddha till he should have received 
our orders. The " Old Man " dropped with a sigh of 
relief into a cane lounge chair which stretched invitingly 
in the wind-swept verandah behind. 

" Boy ! A long whisky-polly ! Savvy ? " he called 
out. 

" I savvy," the Chinaman said solemnly, and then he 
glanced at us. 

Maurice and I decided, however, to wait till we had 
had our bath. 

" But where is the bath ? " I said. 

Maurice pointed to a trap-door in the floor, which up 
to then I had not noticed. " Down there. Doc. You 
go first." 

The luxury of a bath after exertion in the Tropics 
is something to be felt rather than described. It is so 
ineffably soothing and yet exhilarating. Little wonder 
all Eastern religions make of it a ritual. 
92 



PINANG 

A Malay bath is strange on first acquaintance. I went 
down a ladder into a little square brick room, with only 
a tiny opening the size of one brick high up on the outside 
wall to give light. In one corner stood a barrel, breast 
high, into Avhich water trickled from a pipe. Floating 
in the barrel was a dipper, made of a half cocoanut shell 
with a handle. One stood on the brick floor, and ladled 
the ice-cold water over one with the dipper. From the 
floor the water ran into a shallow groove, and then out 
and down the mountain-side. 

It was worth the climb, three times over, to have the 
exhilarating sensation of that bath, and the languorous 
feeling of content that followed. 

Clad in fresh clean suits of white, we presently strolled 
comfortably round to the great verandahed smoke- 
room looking down on the wide vista below — a vista 
of miles on miles of tree-clad ravines winding to the 
distant toy-like town, with the blue strait beyond on 
which the great ships looked like tiny ants. Further 
still the eye swept across the jungle-fringed Province 
Wellesley, on the other side, and over miles of paddy 
fields, till on the utmost limits of vision the white cloud- 
capped peaks of Kedah rose blue in the shimmering 
haze. 

Lazily we lay looking at it, clothed in a ruminating 
silence. I watched the faint blue smoke of my cigar 
rising, while Maurice, with a collection of coloured bottles, 
a rattan swizzle, fresh limes, soda syphons, pounded 
ice, and the air of a connoisseur, concocted some nectar 
of the gods for our prospective delectation. 

" I withdraw every word I said on the way up," 
said the " Old Man," with a long sigh of content. " It 
was worth it. I've just weighed myself, and I'm four 
pounds lighter. Besides, going down is nothing," he 
added characteristically. 

93 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

A Chinese waiter approached a fat German sitting 
in a chair not far from us. 

" I vill haf vat dese gentlemen haf," he said. 

Maurice looked up and smiled : 

" Ours is a special recipe of my own, sir — a patent 
' shng.' " 

The German threw up his hands in horror. 

" Ach ! No. I am ' dedodal.' I vill haf ' gin mit 
soda,' boy." 

" D — n all Dutchmen," said the " Old Man " in quite 
an audible voice. 

" Thought you liked Dutchmen, Cap. ? " said Maurice 
with a smile. 

" Hollanders, not Germans," said the " Old Man." 

" Sailors," I explained, " divide the earth into 
British — which include all English-speaking people — 
Froggies, Dutch — ^which means Germans and all of 
that ilk — Dagos — meaning thereby Mediterranean 
Europeans — and Niggers — all coloured people." 

Presently a great gong boomed somewhere amongst 
the trees. 

" Tiffin," said Maurice. 

The big cool dining-room was almost full when we 
walked along the shaded path to it. People had come 
from all parts of the Malay States to be present 
on the arrival of the Duke of Connaught, and most of 
them had gravitated up here. They were an interesting 
crowd to watch — bronzed military men with keen, 
worn faces, and the look of pioneers ; younger men, 
not yet stamped with the die of command ; in startling 
contrast, pale-faced officials of the civil administration, 
governing the country from the shelter of punkah- 
swept offices ; and here and there a few prosperous 
merchants, lawyers, and doctors, indistinguishable from 
the other civihans. 
94 




"SE\V-8K\V" WOMAX (Seep. 115) 




PINANG 

Then there were the women. One shrinks from 
describing Englishwomen in the East. I looked round 
the room. Some of them may have been beautiful once 
— the East had finished that. Now they all looked like 
those elderly spinsters who live a more or less pre- 
datory life on Bloomsbury boarders — ^pale, thin or 
pastily fat, cadaverous, hollow-eyed. 

The soft complexions, the graceful contour, once 
present in some of them, had paid a heavy toll to the 
moist steamy-hot climate. One cannot live in a con- 
tinuous Turkish bath without showing it. The bronzed 
lean men, used to the open and constant physical 
exercise, had gained, by reason of the climate, an air of 
ascetic dignity — the lines on their brows did not matter. 
But in the women a sedentary life, the tedium of move- 
ment in garments unsuitable to the climate, the 
necessary separation, for years perhaps, from their 
children, the consequent emptiness of their lives, 
the eagerness, therefore, with which they clutched 
at any form of excitement, all were reflected in the 
thin sharpness of their voices and their general air of 
querulous discontent. 

It is a sorry place for women — the Far East. 

There was one woman, however, who looked a queen 
amongst them all. She was sitting v/ith her husband, 
and none of the other women, I noticed, appeared to 
see her. I asked Maurice the reason. 

" Native blood," he answered quietly. 

It was that, probably, that had enabled her, in some 
mysterious way, to defy the climate by remaining fresh 
and young. The taint was slight, only about an 
eighth. In England she would have passed anywhere, 
but here in the East — no ; she was not " Pukka white," 
and that was an end of it — she was not " received." 

It seemed to weigh lightly on her. She was smiling 

95 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and chatting gaily with the group of men who 
gathered round her table ; but one cannot tell what 
" gall and wormwood " she swallowed inwardly. No 
doubt when the great " muck-a-mucks " were being 
officially received by the Duke of Connaught on the 
morrow, she would be one of the uninvited. Perhaps 
she would feel it ; probably, if she did, she would never 
show it. But to a woman these things mean more 
than mere man can ever comprehend. I saw her hus- 
band watching her with adoring eyes. Perhaps in that 
she found her world complete. 

Once or twice during "tiffin" the "Old Man" 
glanced apologetically at me. 

" Regimen be hanged," I said, and he looked 
immensely relieved. 

" Captain's been reducing himself by dieting," I 
explained. 

" These curries are dehcious," said the " Old Man." 
" Try this ' Gula Malacca ' curry, Doc. I remember 
it of old." 

No wonder he did. I remember its delicate nutty 
flavour, and the added joy of the fresh green cocoanut- 
milk, even unto this day. Maurice smiled at our 
enthusiasm. 

" I admit it's almost worth standing the heat for," 
he said. " But at times I long, in a way you fellows 
can never understand, for a dish of English straw- 
berries and cream. I'd give a month's pay for that." 

That started us off ; and then we talked of home 
and country, of green lanes and English roses, of little 
wayside inns and the smell of apple orchards, of London 
hansoms, restaurants in Soho, and the lights of 
Piccadilly Circus — and I watched Maurice's face light 
up, and his eyes glow, and his head rise proudly, and 
96 



PINANG 

thought of the Ijttle people who dwell in streets, and 
know not England. A passing Malay waiter, lean, 
bro-wn-faced, under a scarlet turban, caught his eye, 
and brought him back to reality. 

" Stop, you fellows," he said, half joking, yet half 
in earnest. " I don't want to think of it any more. 
It'll be five long years before I can see it all again." 

After " tiffin " the public rooms became a desert. 
Every one, including ourselves, retired for the afternoon 
siesta in the wide, mosquito-netted bedrooms ; and 
it was not till several hours of dreamless slumber had 
fled that our Chinese boy awakened us with tea. 

We took it in long chairs on the verandah of our bed- 
room, gazing down over the precipitous cliffs sweeping 
hundreds of feet below to the tree-clad ravines lying 
between the lower heights, covered by forests of areca- 
nut trees that stretched for miles and miles to south- 
ward over the edge of the horizon. 

Maurice threw up his arms with a long sigh of content. 

" It's much too soon to be moving yet. Though it's 
cool enough here, it's a furnace below. Let's play 
billiards." 

Every one plays billiards in the East, and every one 
is much better than the average player at home, for it 
is a game that can be played comfortably in hot climates. 
The tables, however, are invariably abominable, even 
in the best hotels, probably due to the heat warping 
things and the plague of ants. 

Thus the afternoon was idled away till Maurice 
decided it was time to start down the mountain again, 
to get to the bottom before the rapid tropical night made 
progress difficult. Our Kling porters seemed never 
to have moved from where they had squatted outside 
our quarters in the morning. Every time we passed 

G 97 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

we found them in the same position, their wild eyes 
following us carefully for any sign that they were 
needed. 

" Think they must be fresh from the Deccan, don't 
understand our ways, and so are afraid to leave where 
they know our baggage is," said Maurice indifferently. 

At a sign they seized our traps, and we started. The 
descent was comparatively easy. We reached the base 
a few minutes after sunset. But here a complication 
arose. Maurice had been right in his conjecture that 
our Klings were new arrivals. That would not have 
mattered, but what did was that they did not under- 
stand the " chit " system, and we had not a cent 
between us. Maurice explained in Malay that they 
would be paid on presenting the " chit " the next 
morning. But they did not understand Malay, and 
so, gesticulating wildly, they ran after the 'rickishaws 
when we started. Soon, however, we left them behind. 

" They'll find out all about it from the others," he 
said philosophically. 

Riding back in the darkness, in the cool evening 
air, behind the dim figure of the runner, put the finish 
to a perfect day. Every one seemed to be out on that 
particular night. Strings of twinkling 'rickishaws, each 
with its sidelight, came in and out of gateways, or passed 
us, each holding dim white figures, half recognisable 
as the passing light shone in on them. The white 
porticoed bungalows were all aglow like fairy palaces 
in their tropical framework. The long straight stems 
of the cocoanut trees, lining the road, flashed endlessly 
in the light as we passed ; while the land breeze 
murmured gently in their feathery tops far over- 
head. 

Presently we arrived at the " International," where we 
had arranged to have " machin " (dinner). The menu 
98 



PINANG 

was written in Malay, so the " Old Man " and I ate in 

faith. 

• • • • • 

Fancy is a curious thing. There are people one likes 
at once, others one takes an immediate antipathy to — 
why, one cannot explain ; it is the riddle of Dr. Fell. 

After dinner we forgathered with two or three 
friends of Maurice's, who were dining in the hotel. 
One I took a particular liking to. He was very quiet, 
he was a Scotchman, I could see he was drinking more 
than was good for him, and yet I knew immediately I 
should like him. 

He smiled gravely at me, and hitched his chair round 
to my side. We sat in the big verandah, under a 
whirring electric fan, in big cane basket chairs, around 
a little table. Two silent bare-footed Malay waiters 
stood behind us. The cigars were good, the coffee 
excellent ; every one felt pleasantly post-prandial. 

" What do those three d — ned niggers want ? " said 
one of the men suddenly. 

Every one turned round to look. We three, as it 
happened, had all our backs to the open space, in front 
of the hotel, and on turning saw three brown, half 
naked figures standing at the foot of the steps, staring 
silently up at us. Immediately one of them held up a 
" chit " towards Maurice. 

" Why, it's our Klings," he said in surprised vexation. 
" They must have followed us the whole way here. 
They evidently think we're trying to do them out of 
their pay." 

" Deuced cheek of them following you here," said the 
man who had first noticed them. 

" They don't understand," Maurice explained. 

" Deuced cheek, all the same," the other replied. 

Evidently the Malay policeman thought so too. The 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Malays hate the Klings almost as much as they do the 
Chinese, and our waiters had heard the muttered dis- 
approval. Something was said to the policeman, and 
immediately he precipitated himself on the three figures. 
There was a brief violent scuffle, and then all three 
disappeared beyond the range of light, mixed up with 
the policeman, who presently reappeared smiling joy- 
fully. 

The " residents " took it all as a matter of course. 

" Why not pay them from the hotel ? " I suggested 
mildly. 

The " Old Man " nodded approval, but all the "resi- 
dents," even the good-natured Irish doctor, negatived 
the suggestion. 

" Ye haven't to be livin' here," he said. " We have ; 
an' it's these poor divils have to be taught not to be 
botherin' us for nothin' ; an' it's the Malay policeman 
enjoys himself teachin' them that same," he added 
with a grin. 

The Scotchman — Guthrie — looked at me and smiled. 

" You think it very high-handed ? " he said. 

I nodded. 

" Man, if you come to think of it, our mere presence 
In the country is the most insufferable high-handedness. 
We haven't a moral leg to stand on." 

" Who's talkin' about not being able to stand so 
early in the evening ? " protested the Irish doctor. 
" You say you're not goin' to the ' Reception,' Guthrie I 
Well, then, I'll toss Roberts, best of three, who wears 
your frock-coat and ' topper ' to-morrow. Haven't 
worn one since I went round Merrion Square, I don't 
want to think how many years ago, when I was lookin' 
for testimonials, to gull long-suJTerin' lay committees, 
when I was up for a job." 

This was a subject of vastly greater importance 
100 



PINANG 

than any Kling's feelings. Frock-coats were scarce 
in Pinang. No one used them. They did not suit the 
climate. But they would be de rigueur on the Duke's 
arrival on the morrow, there were not enough to go 
round, and every one who hadn't got one was hunting 
round amongst his friends who had. 

So the Klings were totally forgotten in the excitement 
of watching the throw of the dice. 

" Three fives in two. I'll stand," said the doctor. 

The other man rattled the dice-box and threw. 

" Three sixes in one," he said calmly. " Mine, Doc.'* 

The Irishman laughed. 

" Never mind," he said. " It's lucky in love I'll be. 
Besides, I'll charge old ' Cheong Ta ' double fees for 
seeing him when I ought to be at the ' Reception * 
I can't go to ; for ' every little helps,' as the captain said 
when he threw his wife overboard to lighten the ship 
in a storm." 

" At any rate," said Guthrie, the owner of the clothes, 
" we all score a dinner off the winner. You'll come, 
captain, and you, Doc. ? " 

" We sail to-morrow morning. Otherwise ," the 

" Old Man " said. 

" So. Then you'll miss all the excitement. But 
then I forget. It's nothing to you fellows. To us it 
will be the main topic of conversation for months. 
You lucky devils living at home. You'll be back in 
England in two or three months. As for us, we're 
chained ." His voice trailed off in a sigh of regret. 

" Hasn't seen his wife for three years — poor old 
Guthrie," Maurice explained afterwards. " Climate 
nearly killed her. Had to send her home. Deuced 
fond of each other. Rotten hard lines. Men shouldn't 
marry in the East." 

A native bearer came hurriedly up the steps of the 

101 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

verandah, and delivered a note. The waiter brought it 
to the doctor, and he tore it open casually. 

" Excuse me, you fellows," he said. 

As he read the look of good-fellowship faded, his eyes 
grew grave, his mouth firm. I could see the professional 
mask falling like a drop-curtain over his whimsical 
countenance. 

" Sorry," he said, getting up abruptly, " I'll have to 
leave you fellows. Got a call." 

The " Old Man " caught my eye. We rose simul- 
taneously. 

" We should be back at our ship, too," he said. 

" Don't let me break up the party," the doctor 
protested, hailing his 'rickishaw at the same time with 
a preoccupied air. 

" No. Don't go, you fellows," Guthrie said sleepily 
over his cigar. 

Our 'rickishaw men had appeared, however, as if 
by magic from the darkness. 

" It's rather late, and we've got some things to do," 
said the " Old Man." 

Guthrie nodded somnolently, looking at us stupidly. 

" Better say good-bye to Guthrie, then," said Maurice. 
" He's living at the hotel. I'll see you as far as the 
pier." 

So we said good-bye and left him. The doctor had 
already hurried off. 

One meets so many good fellows just for a day in pass- 
ing. One feels one would like to know more of them, 
and then one's paths diverge. I have the picture in 
my mind, quite sharply still, of Guthrie as we left him, 
lying limply in a long cane chair, his thin spare figure 
clothed in white drill, a series of coloured glasses on 
a little table in front of him, two or three silent saronged 
brown figures hanging sedulously in the background, 
102 



PINANG 

with a fan whirring overhead trying to create a current 
of air in the still tropic night, heavy with the scent 
of " ylang-ylang " and tuberoses all around. I can 
see the body of Guthrie, lying there, drinking more 
than is good for it, while his mind is some 8,000 miles 
away in a little island we call " home," wandering in 
fancy with the one woman in the world for him. 

The East is full of " Guthiies " and England of 
" grass widows." Some of them — but is it any use being 
cynical ? Time, absence, and opportunity make cul- 
prits of most of us. For life is, after all, for the most 
part, a desert with unexpected "oases," which most 
of us have an unhappy knack of missing, finding 
" sand " only, or perhaps, worse still, the " mirage." 
Let us hope Guthrie had the better fate. 

Maurice joined us on the ship at breakfast. The 
first thing we asked was " were our KJiings paid." 

He laughed. " Oh, yes ! That's all right ! They 
found out things in the night, and came to the ' office ' 
this morning, with some one v/ho had explained to them. 
I talked to the man v/ho it seems is their head, and 
asked him how he dared send out ' coolies ' without 
explaining the customs to them. I put the fear of 
God into that chap. So it won't occur again." 

" That's all right," said the " Old Man." 

" Of course ! " said Maurice quietly. " Honesty is 
our policy in the East. It's the greatest mistake pos- 
sible to ' do ' the nigger. That's where the Portu- 
guese failed, where the Germans are failing to-day, 
and where the Japanese will lose if they don't change 
pretty quick." 

'* That's so," said the Chief. " It's a pity the Jap 
is such a rogue. The man I like is good old John China- 
man." 

103 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Hear, hear," said the " Old Man." " John China- 
man is dirty. He's as wily as an Armenian, and the 
Armenian can beat the Jew any day ; he'll drive the 
hardest bargain possible with you, but his word is his 
bond, and he'll keep it even if he loses heavily by it. 
Yes, sir ; John Chinaman is a gentleman." 

And this I found was the general opinion throughout 
the Far East. When one dealt with a Chinaman one 
felt safe that the bargain would be carried out. With 
a Jap, on the other hand, one preferred to have one's 
money in advance. 

I went ashore with Maurice after breakfast, partly 
to do some shopping, partly to look up an old 'Varsity 
chum who was in the Colonial Service there. Eventually 
I found him sitting as a judge in the courts. He was 
trying some wretched Chinamen who were accused of 
letting off fireworks to the public danger in Beach 
Street. Rather to the surprise of the prosecution, he 
let them oU with a nominal fine. I found then he had 
seen me at the back of the court, for he presently sent 
round to ask me to come to his office. 

" Do you know," he said later, " it was something 
in your eye made me let those Chinks off. I couldn't 
help thinking when I saw you of how we once started 
a fire in the * Bay,' and commandeered the basket 
chair of a man neither of us knew to make it burn more 
vigorously. I thought of the delight we had when 
we dodged the ' Junior Dean,' and got back safe to our 
rooms without detection. I thought of the elaborate 
plans we made to decoy the porters off when we wanted 
to get our fire going strong, and I simply couldn't fine 
those Chinks." 

** It's a sort of belated conscience money," I said. 
" Yes, that's about it." 

When I got back to the office I found the " ship's 
104 



PINANG 

papers " were not yet ready, and so while I was waiting 
for Maurice I cooled down under the office punkah 
pulled by the quaintest little cross-eyed Chinese boy, 
sitting with the immobile face of a Buddha, hypnotised 
by the monotony of his duty. All the clerks were 
Chinamen. They seem to be the only Orientals with any 
head for figures. The Japanese are not nearly so trust- 
worthy, the Malay of course is hopeless, but the China- 
man is accurate to three places of decimals. It was 
a curious meeting of East and West to see a Chinaman, 
squint-eyed, pig-tailed, banging away at a Remington 
with the speed of a sleight-of-hand artist, his face all the 
while like that of a graven image. 

" Ready," said Maurice, coming out of an inner office. 

" Quite ready," I answered. 

We bundled into our 'rickishaws and hurried to the 
landing-stage. Steam was up when we reached the 
ship, and our farewells to Maurice were hurried. The 
" Old Man," as usual, was fuming to get away. In 
five minutes we were o:K ; the launch with Maurice's 
waving figure swept shorewards ; and soon we were 
gliding smoothly round the great head of Muka, and 
slipping down the Straits of Malacca, bound for Singa- 
pore. 

• • • • • 

Pinang is the gate to our Empire in the Far East. 
But for Pinang it is probable we should never have 
had Singapore, or the Federated Malay States, or the 
British portions of Borneo. They would all in the 
natural course of events have become absorbed in the 
Dutch possessions in " Nederlands Indie," with Java, 
Sumatra, Borneo, Celebes, and the rest. The immense 
mineral wealth of the Native States, which is at present 
in British hands, and the now booming rubber industry, 
would have been monopolised by the Dutch. As luck 

105 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

would have it, we are in possession, and all of our present 
rights are due to the friendship of an obscure British 
sea-captain, Francis Light, with a forgotten Malay 
potentate, the Sultan of Kedah. 

The history of how we acquired Pinang reads like a 
romance, and a romance, be it said, that does not reflect 
much credit upon England. As a nation we seem to 
have been the favourites of fortune ; our mighty Empire 
has been acquired almost by haphazard ; and the 
talking shop at Westminster, save in the fatal case of 
the American colonies, has been rescued time and again 
from egregious folly by the forethought and timely 
action of the younger sons, forgotten sailors, or obscure 
soldiers, who have helped to thrust greatness upon us, 
often against our will. We have thus been saddled 
with the burden of Empire, as it were, almost by inad- 
vertence. 

Such is the story of Pinang and the life-history of 
Captain Francis Light, its founder. Leaving the Navy 
in 1765, Light went out to Lidia to seek his fortune 
in the days when Lidia, in popular imagination, was 
still a land of fabulous gold from which returning 
"nabobs" came home, with enlarged livers, it is true, 
but also, at the same time, with untold wealth in rubies, 
diamonds, pearls, and golden mohurs, locked up in great 
teak chests, as compensation. The " nabob " bulked 
as largely in those days as the later Australian and 
Californian and the present American and South 
African millionaires do to-da}^ ; and Light, no doubt, 
had golden visions of a similar affluence when he set 
out for India. At Calcutta he got command of a ship 
trading to Lower Siam and the Malay States. Every- 
where he went, however, he found the hand of the Dutch 
against him. Established at Malacca, they were jeal- 
ously watchful of every one encroaching on what they 
106 



PIXAXG 

considered their sphere of influence. They tried to 
prevent the natives trading vrith the British by every 
possible device, going so far, sometimes, as to destroy 
crops rather than that the Enghsh should have them. 
Eveiy^ petty excuse to harass British shipping vras 
adopted, there were mutual recriminations and 
retaliations, and in consequence no love was lost between 
the traders of the rival nations. 

In spite of the Dutch, however. Captain Light won 
the confidence of, and acquired much trading facihties 
from, the people of Kedah ; he became an honoured 
friend of the sultan ; and there is a persistent legend, 
almost certainly inaccurate, that the sultan gave him 
one of his daughters in marriage. 

Pinang was part of the sultan's possessions, and it was 
probably this friendship that suggested to Light its 
strategic importance as an outpost against the aggression 
of the Dutch, and its great value as a port of call on the 
way to China, for it m.ust be remembered that at that 
time the future Singapore was an unknown and 
unnamed swamp. At any rate, in 1771 he attempted 
to interest Warren Hastings, the then Governor-General, 
in its acquisition ; but the attempt failed. The non- 
success, however, of a later plan to use Achin as a base 
brought the idea again into prominence, and Light's 
friendship with the sultan smoothed the way to an agree- 
ment. We gained Pinang in return for a pension of 
6000 dollars a year to the sultan, and the promise of 
protection against his enemies, more particularly the 
Siamese. 

On August 11, 1786, therefore. Light hoisted 
the British flag, named the island '" Prince of Wales " 
Island in honour of the future George IV., and 
the capital " Georgetown," after George ILL. It is 
now a place of immense trade. The municipal revenue 

107 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

amounts to over a million dollars a year, and there 
is an enormous future before it, owing to the coffee, 
tin, and rubber industries. We have held it ever since 
Light's time, though at one period it was gravely- 
suggested that it should be abandoned and that the 
Andaman Islands would be better as a port of call. 
To the lasting disgrace of England, however, we shuffled 
out of part of our agreement ; and when the Siamese 
attacked Kedah, in the reign of the succeeding sultan, 
we supinely allowed it to be overrun and conquered, 
thus repudiating the treaty made by Light, besmirching 
his memory in the eyes of the men who had trusted in 
his integrity, and casting an ugly blot on the fair fame 
of England. It was a typical example of the diplomacy 
of the East India Company, and on a par with its sub- 
sequent treatment of one of its greatest servants, 
Sir Stamford Raffles, Governor of Java and founder of 
Singapore. 



108 



CHAPTER IV 

ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

At sea again : Malacca a forgotten city; Singapore the Pearl 
of the Orient : The "Sew-sew" woman : Pilgrims and 
typhoid : The curious behaviour of the " Donkey-man " : The 
trouble with the German " tramp " : A new use for Stephens' 
blue-black : The Albatross and the Ancient Mariner ; 
Water-spouts 



CHAPTER IV 

In an hour after leaving Pinang all signs of land were 
gone, and we had fallen into the calm routine of sea 
life again. 

The Chief came up from below, and threw himself 
into a deck-chair beside me with a grunt of satisfaction. 
" One bell " had gone and the steward came up on 
deck with tea. 

"It's fine to be at sea again," he said, and I, scarce 
knowing why, agreed immediately. 

Thinking it over, I came to the conclusion that it 
was the relief from the heat, the confusion, the clash 
of colours, the babel of tongues, that made one appre- 
ciate the neutral tints, and the calm monotony of the 
sea by contrast. In a day or two, we knew, we would 
be looking forward to making port again, talking 
eagerly of what we would do at Singapore ; but for the 
present the rest of the old routine was very pleasant. 

As the day waned we gradually approached the land 
again, a green-rimmed outline, with blue hills behind ; 
and in the darkness of the night that followed the 
heavy odour of jungle vegetation swept over the ship 
in waves from the unseen shore. The sea was as 
glass. Not a wind stirred. Far out to starboard, over 
the mountains of Sumatra, the lightning flashes played 
continuously, without sound. 

That evening, as the Chief and I sat watching them, 
he puffed luxuriously at his cigar, and said, " I'm 

111 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

enjoying this, because in three days' time we'll have 
turned Singapore and be threshing up the China seas 
in dirty, squally weather, with the temperature dropping 
fifteen degrees a day, till we're all shivering in heavy 
* blues ' again, instead of these thin white duds." 

*' Lucky for me, I'm running short of whites," 
I answered. 

" Tosh ! I can see you can't quite grasp it yet. 
You just wait," he said in an aggrieved tone. 

" Sufficient unto the day," I murmured contentedly 
in the darkness. 



In the morning I was called to see the ancient city 
of Malacca, once the greatest port in the Far East, 
now a mere calling place for little coasting steamers, 
and native praus from the opposite Sumatran coast. 

" We can't get within two miles of the place," said 
the " Old Man." " It's full of reefs and very shallow. 
It used to be a great port in the old ' Company ' days, 
but Singapore and Pinang have taken all the trade — 
nobody goes there now." 

Seen from the ship, the city appeared as a huddled 
line of houses with their backs towards the sea, and 
their back-yards, so to speak, projecting out on pillars 
in the water, as much as sixty feet (according to the 
" Old Man ") from the shore. This peculiarity in 
architecture is possible because there is practically no 
tide in these seas, and the Chinamen, who love deep, 
narrow houses, have accordingly seized the opportunity 
to build right out into the water. 

Through the city a little river winds down to the 
sea ; and on a green hill, easily seen from the ship, 
there stands an old Portuguese cathedral, the famous 
church of " Our Lady of the Annunciation," scene 
112 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

of the miracles of St. Francis Xavier, that wonderful 
pioneer missionary. 

That is all that remains to commemorate the 
hundred and thirty years of Portuguese occupation 
and the mighty exploits of the redoubtable Albuquerque, 
unless one includes a plentiful crop of Eurasians with 
high-sounding Peninsular names. 

After the place was captured by the Dutch it flourished 
mightily, but since it passed to England the advent of 
steam has sounded its death-knell. 

Dampier, who visited the place in 1688, when it 
was under the Dutch, found the Chinese, even then, 
in possession of the trade. 

" The Chinese also are seated here, who bring the 
commodities of their country hither, especially tea, 
sugar-candy, and other sweetmeats. Some of them 
keep tea-houses, where for a stiver a man can have 
near a pint of tea [tea was in those days in England 
a royal luxury] and a little porringer of sugar-candy, 
or other sweetmeat, if he pleases. Others of these 
Chinese are tradespeople, and they are all in general 
very industrious, but withal extraordinary gamesters, 
and, if they can get any to play with them, all business 
must submit to that." 

The Chinaman now is as the Chinaman then, still 
a gamester to his finger-tips. Our men in the fo'castle 
spent hours of their leisure gaming. Sometimes 
tragedies arise from the habit. 

" It was on the voyage before last, when I was on 
the Nestor,'' said the Chief. "We had a Chink 
crew, and on the morning after we left Singapore the 
quartermaster sounded ' seven bells.' There was no 
answer from the Chink on the ' look-out,' though 
they could see him quite plainly from the bridge, 
standing on the fo'castle head looking out to sea. 

H 113 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The mate got mad, and sent a quartermaster to * wake 
up that darned Chink.' They couldn't waken him — 
he was dead. He had hanged himself by hitching his 
pigtail round his neck and over a stanchion. It turned 
out he had lost all his savings, and gambled away his 
earnings for the next two years, so he had concluded 
the best thing was to clear out. He had sounded ' six 
bells ' quite deliberately, and then before the eyes 
of every one, quite unsuspected, calmly taken his life." 

Steaming into Singapore in the early morning is a 
memory to be marked with a white stone. It is one 
of the most beautiful sights of the beautiful East. 

Gradually the Straits narrow, and the ship passes 
between the mainland, green with mangrove swamps, 
creeping out into the water, and island after island, 
jungle-clad to the uttermost limits of riotous vegetation. 

The channel grows narrower and narrower, and, 
looking closely, one can see the venomous noses of huge 
siege guns peeping out on either side from the apparently 
innocent tree-clad islands — for this is the Gibraltar 
of the Far East, and England intends to hold it, if 
necessary, against the world. 

Suddenly one seems to have come to an impasse, 
and then the ship takes a sharp turn, there is a sound 
of swirling water, the trees almost touch the ship's 
side, and we are through into a wide bay, wharfed 
along one side, and lined by ships of every nation, 
flying every known flag; whilst on the other rises 
island after island in one long sweeping chain, fading 
away into the opal distance on the rim of the horizon. 

So many strange things strike the eye that the mind 
refuses to accommodate impressions with sufficient 
rapidity. 

At one moment one catches sight of a queer native 
114 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

village, built entirely on posts in the water, with 
amphibious little Malay boys playing as contentedly 
in the sea as English children on the village green, 
diving like porpoises, upsetting one another out of 
" dug-outs " not much bigger than themselves, treating 
the water as if it were their native element. Next some 
of the islands are studied, laid out as they are like 
tropical gardens, with the coolest of cool white 
bungalows scattered here and there over them. But 
the sailor's eye is irresistibly attracted to the other side, 
where miles and miles of the " Tanjong Pagar " 
wharves accommodate ships of every build and nation 
■ — coquettish white Dutch mail-boats running to Java, 
squat Germans, Japanese flying the blood-red " Sun " 
flag, a long white American transport ship refitting 
for Manila, and close to her a grim slate-coloured 
British cruiser coaling with feverish haste, blunt-nosed 
cable ships out in the bay, and further still away those 
pariahs of the ocean, two or three petroleum ships, 
flying the " danger " flag. 

There were three of our own company's ships moored 
alongside when we arrived ; and so, as soon as our 
gangway v/as lowered, half a dozen old shipmates of 
our officers invaded us. Following them came the 
usual nondescript crowd of native merchants, com- 
pradors, Chinese tailors, Bengalee money-changers, 
cheroot merchants, and performing fakirs, one so soon 
gets accustomed to see on board ship. 

"Hullo," said the Chief, "here's our old *sew- 
sew ' woman." He pointed to a little wrinkled old 
Chinawoman climbing up the gangway, carrying a big 
round basket covered with oilcloth. When she got 
on deck, she made straight for the Chief, bent in a 
profound salaam, and said, " Sew-sew, sew-sew ? " 

She made a quaint picture with her uncovered head 

115 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

of glistening black hair tied in a tight knot behind, 
fastened with two big boxwood skewers, her blue 
glass earrings, little jacket, wide alpaca trousers, and 
bare wrinkled yellow feet. 

Producing a little stool from her basket, she sat 
down in a shady corner of the deck and waited. 

" But what does she want ? " I said. 

" Oh, she'll darn, patch, sew on buttons, anything 
you like. She's a ' sew-sew ' woman." 

I dived below to fetch my camera, but when she 
saw it she covered her face, gathered up her things, 
looked the picture of misery, and prepared to leave 
the ship. 

" Better not," said the Chief ; " she thinks it 
is the evil eye." So I refrained. 

" Belong damfool," said a fat Chinese tailor, who 
was standing near. " You takee me. All-light. Me 
likee," and he smiled an expansive, greasy smile. 

But I had no ambition to spoil a plate on a fat 
Chinaman in a brown puggaree. 

" Have you locked up your cabin, Doc. ? " said the 
Mate in passing. 

"No," I said. 

" By jove, I forgot, too," said the Chief. 

He made a hasty stride to the side of the ship and 
looked over. It was lucky he did. Through his open 
port, which lay alongside the wharf, a Chinaman had 
inserted a long rattan with a hook on the end of it, 
and he was feeling about inside when we looked over. 
We shouted, and, dropping his rattan, he fled. Down 
the gangway the Chief and I pelted after him, 
but we'd never have caught him had not a little wiry 
Malay policeman, who saw him running, skilfully 
grabbed him by the pigtail and held on till we arrived. 

The Chief was very mad. He was out for 
116 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

blood. But when, on the policeman searching him, 
it was found he had not had time to fish out anything, 
he began to cool down again. It was intensely comical 
to the onlooker. There stood the Chinaman, looking 
immensely frightened ; the fierce little turbaned Malay 
policeman, in his bare feet, hanging on to the China- 
man's pigtail like grim death ; the rather stout, red-faced 
Chief, somewhat out of breath, mopping his fore- 
head, covered with beads of perspiration ; and myself, 
standing near, wondering why I had not had the sense 
to bring my camera and photograph the whole tableau. 

The Chief thought rapidly, then he smiled grimly. 

" Say, Jack," he said to the policeman. " You give 
him plenty stick. All right. Can do. You savvy — 
march." 

The policeman's face broke into a broad grin. His 
eyes snapped with delight. He chuckled in guttural 
joy. 

" I savvy," he said. 

He didn't wait to have the order countermanded, 
for if there is one thing a Malay likes better than another 
it is beating a Chinaman. So he ran his prisoner off 
at once, and the last act of the drama we saw was 
the Chinaman running rapidly, with the Malay clinging 
to his rear, thwacking him, with immense gusto, all 
over the body with his malacca truncheon. 

After that I locked my door and closed my ports 
carefully in every port when I was not in my cabin. 

We had no cargo for Singapore, and so were only 
stopping long enough to coal before clearing for 
Nagasaki, our next port of call. I had no ambition, 
however, to endure another coaling — Port Said had 
cm'ed me of that — ^but so quick were they that before 
the Second and I were ready to go ashore they had 
already started, and long strings of Chinese coolies in 

117 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

limpet-shaped hats, carrying great wicker-work coal- 
baskets, each slung on a bamboo pole, between two 
of them, were running in an endless chain up and down 
the improvised gangways to the bunkers. 

It was quite a quarter of an hour's 'rickishaw ride 
from the wharf to the city. On the way we passed 
a company of Sikhs, very fine and fierce, gorgeously 
Oriental, very trim and soldierly. They had been 
through so much ceremony during the week of the 
Duke of Connaught's visit that when we came on 
them suddenly the whole company came to the salute 
automatically. 

" They take you for one of the ' muck-a-mucks,' " 
I said to the Second. The Second smiled complacently 
before contradicting me. 

Singapore, like all Far Eastern ports, is a kaleidoscopic 
picture of all the nations upon earth, speaking in a 
babel of many tongues — ^pale whites for whom every one 
makes way, yellow Chinamen, busy as nailers, little 
Jap ladies smiling in 'rickishaws, stately Parsees 
in gorgeous silks, grave Arabs clad in white, half-caste 
ladies, dressed as Europeans, casting languorous glances 
from exceedingly lustrous dark black eyes, and over 
and above all the ever-present, idle, semi-nude Malay, 
sunning himself in somnolent content. Tramways run 
all through the city. At first the Chinese rose against 
them and tore up the permanent way of the big devil 
engines several times, but now they use them more 
than any one else. 

Looking at the magnificent public buildings, the 
palatial hotels, the wide, beautifully kept streets, 
the splendid shops, the gardens and parks, the multi- 
tudinous life of the place, the miles and miles of shipping 
in the great Tanjong Pagar docks, it is almost impossible 
118 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

to realise that less than a hundred years ago the city 
was non-existent. 

Yet it was founded by Sir Stamford Raffles as late 
as 1819 in what then appeared the forlorn hope of 
checking the dominant and domineering power restored 
to the Dutch in the East Indies by the then recent 
Treaty of Vienna. 

To Raffles the signing of that treaty must have been 
very bitter. He had seen Java flourish under his 
regime; Malacca, the traditional centre of European 
power in the Malay States, become British ; and visions 
of a vast East Indian Empire, greater even than that 
of India itself, must have risen before his mind. 

Instead came the agony of seeing everything restored 
to the Dutch, even islands never before claimed by 
them handed over in addition, and last of all, and 
perhaps most bitter, himself, an object of suspicion 
to the cautious merchants of Leadenhall Street on 
account of his expansive views of Empire, banished 
out of harm's way to an honourable exile at Bencoolen, 
in Sumatra. 

It was enough to break the spirit of any but the 
most strong-willed of men, and it is extraordinary 
that Raffles, shaken in health as he was by that time, 
did not give it all up and retire, as he might in all 
honour have done, to the life of honoured ease which 
his soul craved for. Had he done so there would have 
been no Singapore. 

The restoration of Malacca to the Dutch came as a 
great blow to British prestige in the Far East, and the 
Dutch were not long in returning to their old aggressive 
ways. Claims were made of sovereign rights over 
Pehang and Johore, alleged exclusive treaty rights 
were advanced which would have been ruinous to 
British trade, all the old obstructive tactics of the 

119 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

previous two hundred years were employed with a new 
and startling virulence. A determined attempt was 
made to drive the British for ever out of the Malay 
Archipelago. The Governor of Pinang, Colonel 
Bannerman, wrote despairingly to the Governor-General 
on the subject. He was a weak man with no initiative, 
and threw up the sponge even before any attempt 
to get at close quarters had been made. But the active, 
impulsive mind of Raffles was not thus to be suppressed. 
Finding Bannerman worse than useless, with the tacit 
approval of the Governor-General, he secretly set sail 
from Pinang with a little fleet of four vessels for an 
unknown destination. This was the almost uninhabited 
island of Singapore, and here he raised the British flag 
before the Dutch had even become aware of his presence. 
It was the bold act of a master mind seeing the enormous 
future before the port, and the vast political power 
its strategic position, commanding the Straits of Malacca, 
must inevitably confer on its possessors. 

Almost immediately the Dutch, who saw at once 
the vast importance of its possession, made claim to 
the sovereign rights of the island, and demanded the 
withdrawal of the British settlement ; and, as might 
have been expected, the wiseacres in Leadenhall and 
Downing Streets, looking upon the act as that of an 
intemperate, aggressive person bent upon embroiling us 
with the Dutch, sent a despatch severely censuring 
Raffles, and suggesting to the Governor-General the 
advisability of withdrawing all support from the scheme. 

Luckily the Marquis of Hastings, then Governor- 
General, was annoyed by the peremptory manner in 
which Baron Van Der Capellan, the Governor-General 
of Nederlands Indie, demanded the withdrawal of the 
British. He knew from Raffles that the Dutch never 
had had a station there, and was disinclined from 
120 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

every point of view to admit their claim to all the 
unoccupied islands around the coast of the Malay 
Peninsula. He refused, therefore, to evacuate the 
port, and his position was strengthened by the fact 
that Raffles had been able to get a concession of the 
island from the Sultan of Johore, who denied the 
sovereign rights of Holland over any of his territory. 
Nevertheless it was not until after five long years of 
constant negotiations that the Dutch claims so per- 
sistently made were finally repudiated, and the 
occupancy of the island received official sanction. 

Raffles had the highest possible hopes of Singapore. 
He expected it would become the greatest port in 
the East, " a great commercial emporium and a 
fulcrum whence we may extend our influence politically 
as circumstances may hereafter require." " One free 
port in these seas," he stated, " must eventually 
destroy the spell of Dutch monopoly for ever." 

History has amply justified him in his prophetic 
expectations. Singapore has now a population of over 
a quarter of a million, and as a port it is the largest 
in the British Empire after London, Liverpool, and 
Hong Kong. The trade in 1905 amounted to over 
six hundred million dollars, and the future is 
likely to be even more prosperous than the past. 
As Raffles anticipated, it killed the Dutch monopoly, 
and established the ascendency of England in the 
Malay Peninsula. 

Nevertheless so little was his work appreciated by 
the country he served so well that his last days were 
embittered by monetary disputes with the Company, 
and the exact spot of his burial-place is unknown 
to-day. 

A statue has now been erected to his memory in 
Westminster Abbey, and Singapore has honoured 

121 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

herself by raising him another. Like majiy of the 
world's greatest sons, he is better appreciated now 
in death than he ever was in life. 

Coming along the quays on our way back from the 
city, we stopped at one of our ships, and while the 
Second interviewed the engine-room staff, I called 
upon their doctor, a raw-boned Scotchman of the 
deepest dye. He said they were going to Rangoon for 
rice, after leaving Japan. 

" That means," said their Third Mate to me, " you'll 
be sent to Java, Doc. We've taken your turn, and 
we're the last rice ship this season." 

" You may thank your lucky stars you do come 
after us," said the Scotchman. "We carried the last 
batch of eight hundred pilgrims from Mecca, and they 
brought typhoid on board with them, got from 
some dirty sacred well. They were carrying lots of the 
stuff home in bottles with them. It was loaded with 
germs. When any of them felt seedy he had a swig 
at his infected bottle, so I had to confiscate the whole 
lot and dump it overboard. We nearly had a mutiny 
over it ; we should if they hadn't started dying. As 
it was, we dumped several bodies overboard every day 
all across the Indian Ocean. I'm thinking I earned 
my salary this voyage." 

" I'd rather have liked the experience of pilgrims," 
I said. 

" Wish you had got them instead of me then," be 
said heavily. 

Our Second appeared in the doorway just then. 

" They're hooting for us from the ship, Doc. We'd 
better scoot." 

With a hurried " See you in Japan," we fled. The 
*' Old Man," as usual, was having the fidgets to be off, 
122 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

Everything was in confusion on the ship ; the decks 
were filthy with coal-dust, the awnings had had to be 
taken down for the operation, and in consequence 
the place was like a burning fiery furnace. 

" The Chief is as ' waxy ' as old nuts," said the 
Fourth, when we arrived on deck. 

" What's up ? " we both asked— the idea of the 
Chief being angry about anything was disturbing. 

" Don't know ! Some Chinese boarding-master has 
been up to something, and the Chief don't like it." 

" What happened ? " said the Second. 

" Oh ! I went below and found a new ' donkey- 
man ' in charge. 

" ' What thing ? ' I said. 

" ' Belong new " donkey -man," this ship,' he answered. 

" ' The devil, you do,' said I ; * where's our old 
" donkey -man " ? ' 

" ' No savvy,' he said in a sort of cheeky way. 

" I thought it queer, so I shinned up, mighty quick, 
to the Chief, and he went along in a rage to the 
fo'castle, and found our old ' donkey -man ' packing up. 

'" What's the matter, "Donkey?"' he said. 

" Our ' donkey-man ' burst into tears. 

" ' My mot hah makee sick — makee die, Hong Kong 
side. No can stop this ship,' he said. 

" It appears he had had the news that his mother 
was dying in Hong Kong, and as the ship was not 
going there this voyage, he wanted to leave." 

" What did the Chief do ? " I said, with interest, 
the donkey-man being rather a friend of mine. 

" Oh, the Chief wouldn't have it. He refused to 
take the other ' donkey-man,' refused to be re-supplied 
by any Number One Chinese crimp, and hoofed the new 
'donkey-man ' ashore. The other fellow has been crying 
like ' one o'clock ' ever since, but he's here still." 

123 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" It seems a bit rough," I hazarded. 

"Don't know," said the Second. "The Chief's 
pretty wily. He knows Chinks ; and if he thinks 
there's any hanky-panky, you can bet your boots on it 
he's got reasons." 

I may as well give the sequel now, though it happened 
a week later. At first the "donkey-man" was incon- 
solable, then he got a bit better, and finally he came 
one day very mysteriously to the Chief when none 
of the other Chinamen were about. 

" My mothah no makee die. No have got mothah," 
he said. 

" What for then you makee talk. Plenty lie. Plenty 
cry ? " said the Chief severely. 

And then it all came out. It appeared that he had 
made enough money to get free of debt to the Chinese 
crimp at Singapore, and so the crimp wanted to put 
a new man in his place on the ship, a man who owed 
him money, so that he could draw his pay. Our 
" donkey-man " didn't want to leave and start getting 
into debt again; but all these people are in a secret 
society of which the crimps are the head, and their 
power over the men is almost absolute. If the Chief 
hadn't proved so obstinate, the man couldn't possibly 
have stayed, no matter how much he might have 
wished it. 

But to resume. It was an intense relief when at 
length we got clear of the wharf and were steaming 
out to sea again, for the enervating heat of Singapore, 
which sits boiling just above the " Line," was now 
tempered by the breeze we were making ; and so it 
was with feelings of satisfaction we saw the city fade in 
the opal distance, and heard the " Old Man " give 
the order altering our course to climb the China Sea. 
124 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

Even in a few hours the difference was noticeable, 
for now, instead of the calm silence of the Malacca 
Strait, we were running through lumpy seas in the 
teeth of the N.E. monsoon, and a deck-chair was just 
a trifle chilly towards midnight. 

It was on that fu-st evening I got the Third Mate 
into deep disgrace. Sitting smoking in his cabin 
during his watch below, we noticed a German " tramp " 
making flash signals in the night, and idly began to 
read them. " Who the devil are you ? Who the 
devil are you ? Who the devil are you ? " he kept 
signalling. 

In a fatal moment I suggested we should Morse 
back, for it was evident the signaller was gloriously 
drunk. The Third Mate jumped at the suggestion, 
and soon we had rigged an electric light in one of the 
ports, and by switching on and off found we could 
signal perfectly. To our acknowledgment the German 
responded immediately, edging in towards us. We 
signalled away gaily, and were just in the middle of 
the enjojnment of saying sarcastic things and getting 
his enraged flashes in response, when a voice came 
down the ventilator : 

" Captain's compliments, and will whoever is signalling 
without permission kindly stop." 

" Oh, Lord," said the Third Mate. 

"What?" I said. 

" The ' Old Man ' will be as mad as a hatter. I'm 
done for, Doc." 

That put an effectual damper on the fun. 

" It was all my fault," I said. " I'll go up to the 
' Old Man ' and explain." 

But the " Old Man " wouldn't listen. He pretended 
he knew nothing about it, and vented his suppressed 
rage in bespattering the other ship. 

125 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" That d — d German has altered his course four 
times in the last half-hour. He must be roaring drunk 
on the bridge. I thought he'd run us down once — 
d — ^n him, for a longshore lubber," he said. 

When the Mate came off duty he explained it all 
to me ; and it would seem, from his explanations, that 
we had been guilty of infringing a rule as unalterable 
as that of the Medes and Persians, namely, that no 
signals could be sent from any ship without the express 
orders of the master. 

This was all vastly uncomfortable, and distressingly 
annoying to me. Of course, as far as I was concerned, 
it did not matter in the least, but for the Third Mate, 
who was on his trial voyage, it might have far-reaching 
consequences, and that made it far worse for me than 
if I had been liable to suffer for it myself. But the 
Mate couldn't see it : 

" It's not your fault. Doc. How were you to know 
signalling wasn't allowed ? " 
" But I suggested it." 

" Don't care. He knew better, and should have 
said ' No.' As a matter of fact he's been in hot water 
several times already this voyage. 

" The ' Old Man ' is as wily as a fox. He caught 
him cooking his ' positions ' to make them correspond 
with the Second Mate's observations, and he's been 
out on deck in the middle v/atch at night, several times, 
and swears he saw him asleep on the bridge. 

" I don't think he has myself. He's got a slovenly 
way of leaning over the rail and gazing into space, 
instead of walldng backwards and forwards, that makes 
one think him asleep. It's a lazy ' wind-jammer ' 
way he'll have to get out of, if he wants to stay in the 
company." 

All this was very unpleasant. I felt as if I had added 
126 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

the last straw to the weight of the Third Mate's 
delinquencies, and consequently for the first time 
felt an unwelcome restraint in the atmosphere of the 
ship, which the increasing coldness of the temperature, 
striking on our sun-baked bodies, and the uneasy 
motion, after a month of calms, did not tend to alle- 
viate. However, in a day or two, the " Old Man " 
simmered down, aad we were all once more a happy 
family. 

But the weather did not improve. We were now in 
heavy serges again, the decks were constantly wet 
with spray, there was a dampness and clamminess 
about everything, and leaks in the caulking overhead 
began again to show as stains on the roofs of our cabins. 

The monsoon was dead in our teeth, and we were 
making at times barely six knots an hour. 

The fifth day out from Singapore was the worst we 
had. The Chief Steward reported water in the 
" lazarette," and on inspection we found that a plate 
had been started in the night by the pull of the racing 
screw. 

That made the Chief begin to fidget about his 
gear. 

" I must go along and inspect the shaft in the 
' tunnel,' " he said. " Like to come. Doc. ? " 

" I'm on," I said, and so, donning a boiler suit, 
I followed him along the narrow passage, where the 
shaft turns unceasingly, night and day. 

It was a long straight tunnel, barely four feet high, 
with not enough room to turn in till one had traversed 
its entire length. It lay twenty-five feet below water, 
and in its floor revolved the long, smoothly polished 
shaft, connecting the engines with the screw at the 
extreme end of the ship. 

On the integrity of the shaft the life of the ship 

127 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

depends — a broken shaft is one of the worst disasters 
that can happen to a ship at sea. 

Crouching with heads bent forward, we went the 
length of the passage, till we came to the far end, 
where a little square space permitted us to stand erect. 
From this an iron ladder, set in a hollow cylinder, led 
to the poop thirty feet above. The Chief glanced 
back along the dim-lit tunnel. 

" There was once a Second in one of our ships," 
he said. " For some reason or other he fell foul of 
one of the Chinamen. Once he struck the man. The 
Chink said nothing. Then the Second disappeared 
suddenly one day. So did the Chink. They searched 
the whole ship, but could not find them. It was the 
Chief, I think, who remembered he had told the 
Second to do something in the tunnel. They 
searched the tunnel — it was a very narrow one — and 
there they found them. They were both dead. The 
Chinaman had followed him in, crawling after him 
with a knife. They had fought it out in the tunnel. 
Nobody heard. The Chinaman's neck was broken. 
It wobbled loose when I pulled him out by the 
feet. I was Fourth then. The Second had been 
stabbed six times, once in the back and five times in 
front. How he twisted round in the space after he 
had been struck the first time, God only knows. I 
couldn't do it, and I was pretty thin then, not like 
now. But he just hated that Chink. I couldn't stand 
tunnels after that for a bit." 



Towards night the weather grew wilder, a high wind 
rose, and bucketfuls of flying fish delighted the grinning 
Chinese. In the morning, however, it was almost 
calm again. The temperature had risen to 80° F., 
128 




"•■^^. 



•IX THK TKKTII OF TIIK X.K. 3I()NS<»()X" (Sec p. 12ri) 



?T*»iiMwnwn''"ife, 




HOXG KOXG 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

port-holes could be opened, and it was possible to 
lounge on deck again. 

The Chinamen took the opportunity to dry some of 
their gear, and walking along the main deck aft, 
I saw a lot of stuff spread out on the No. 5 hatch 
which looked like scraps of leather. On examination, 
however, it turned out to be bits of maggoty pigskin, 
which the Chinese cook told me were intended as 
medicine. 

The cook and I were quite friendly now, owing to 
a curious taste of his. Like most Chinamen, he had 
tropical ringworm all over his chest. This he was 
treating with Stephens' blue-black ink, and instead 
of laughing when I discovered it, I suggested that 
I had something stronger he might use. Adding some 
carbolic, and mixing up sulphur ointment with the 
ink, I presented him with the mess. It stung him so 
much and looked so nasty that he was immensely 
pleased. We became friends for life. 

Curiously enough, quite unexpectedly, his ringworm 
began to improve from that hour, and then the trouble 
began. They all wanted ink, and the ship's supply 
soon began to show signs of exhaustion owing to the 
unexpected demand. 

We had continuous bad weather till we passed 
" turnabout," and then in a few hours the change 
was remarkable. We were now in the Japanese Gulf 
Stream, and though the sea was still lumpy and yellow, 
the decks were dry, and the speed of the ship rose to 
twelve knots. Every one grew suddenly cheerful, and 
we began to talk of what we were going to buy at 
Nagasaki. The next day was magnificently fine, 
after the weather we had been having. Overhead was 
a blue sky, around us a white-flecked tumbling sea 

I 129 



• THE SURGEON'S LOG 
of blue. The air was bracing to an extraordinary- 
degree. In spite of the cold it was wonderfully enjoy- 
able. 

We were two hundred miles from the Chinese coast, 
and yet we passed through a huge fleet of fishing junks, 
with whole Chinese families, down to little toddling 
infants, aboard — these junks being their only home. 
Although it was so cold, the men and women and 
children were working away almost naked. 

Around the ship sea-birds sailed all day majestically. 
The lamp trimmer came along as I stood gazing up 
at them, rifle in hand. 

" It ain't worth it, sir. Them birds' skins ain't no 
good. Now if it wus goin' to Australia we wur, you 
could catch albatrosses with a fish hook." 

" Ever heard of the ' Ancient Mariner,' ' Lamps ' ? " 
I said. 

" No, sir. What company was he in ? " 

" Can't just remember, ' Lamps.' It was a long 
time ago." 

"Lamps," however, was not curious about the 
" Ancient Mariner." 

" Albatrosses is fine, sir," he continued. " Their 
breasts make the grandest sort of muff. The missis 'as 
three or four I made 'er. An' the skin of the web 
makes a bully baccy-pouch. Yes. Albatrosses is fine ; 
but these 'ere ain't worth the cartridges, sir." 

So perished one of my oldest delusions about the 
superstitions of sailor -men — " Albatrosses is fine." 

Early in the " First Dog " it darkened suddenly, 
black clouds overspread the sky, and night seemed 
rapidly approaching. 

" There's a water-spout on the port bow, sir," said 
a passing quartermaster, as I was gazing idly out to 
starboard. I turned round quickly, and saw a dark 
130 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

mass looking like two cones touching by their apices, 
one rising from the sea, the other descending from a 
black mass of clouds overhead. It travelled rapidly 
with the wind across our bows, in a slanting manner, 
the sea portion, as it were, lagging behind the cloud. 
It was darkly smoky, and we were hoping the sun would 
come out and shine on it, as then it turns a beautiful 
yellow-white, with iridescent edges ; but suddenly, 
between us and it, a squall of rain and hail began to 
fall, and in the darkness beyond it disappeared. 

Afterwards in the Java seas I saw many spouts, as 
it was then the rainy season, but this was my first, 
and therefore most interesting. Nowadays, when the 
romance of the sea has dwindled to vanishing point, 
no one bothers about spouts ; but in the olden days, 
when the mariner went round-eyed from wonder to 
wonder, and dragons and unicorns abounded, and the 
kingdom of Prester John was still on the map, sailors 
had a great dread of water-spouts, especially when, 
for lack of wind, they could not get out of their course. 
Their device then was to fire the ship's cannon at the 
spout, with the idea of breaking it up ; but " I did 
never hear that it proved to be of any benefit," says 
Dampier with naive caution. 

The " Sailor's Horn Book " gives an account of 
several ships that were swamped by spouts in a dead 
calm ; but Dampier's narrative, by its charm, absolutely 
demands quotation : 

" And now being on this subject, I think it not 
amiss to give you an account of an accident that 
happened to a ship once on the coast of Guinea some 
time in or about the year 16T4. One Captain Records, 
of London, bound for the coast of Guinea, in a ship 
of 300 tons and 16 guns, called the Blessing, when 
he came into latitude 7 or 8 degrees North, he saw 

131 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

several spouts, one of which came directly towards 
the ship, and he, having no wind to get out of the way 
of the spout, made ready to receive it by furling his 
sails. It came on very swift, and broke a little before 
it reached the ship ; making a great noise, and raising 
the sea round it, as if a great house, or some such thing, 
had been cast into the sea. The fury of the wind 
still lasted, and took the ship on the starboard bow 
with such violence, that it snapt off the boltsprit and 
fore-mast, both at once, and blew the ship all along 
ready to overset it, but the ship did presently right 
again, and the wind, whirling round, took the ship 
the second time with the like fury as before, but on 
the contrary side and was again like to overset her the 
other way. The mizen-mast felt the fury of this second 
blast, and was snapt short off, as the fore-mast and 
boltsprit had been before. The main-mast and main- 
top-mast received no damage, for the fury of the wind 
(which was presently over) did not reach them. Three 
men were in the fore-top when the fore-mast broke, 
and one on the boltsprit, and fell with them into the 
sea, but all of them were saved. I had this relation 
from ]VIi\ John Canby, who was then quartermaster 
and steward of her ; one Abraham Wise was Chief 
Mate, and Leonard Jeffries Second Mate." 



All day there had been an air of busy unrest about 
the ship. We expected to make Nagasaki on the 
morrow, and so all over the deck polishing, cleaning, 
brightening up, was going on to get rid of the ravages 
of the foul weather we had been having, and to present 
a ship-shape appearance on going into port. 

The engineers were overhauling the deck winches 
and seeing that everything worked smoothly, the 
132 



ON THE WAY TO JAPAN 

boatswain was carefully testing his tackle, the stewards 
giving everything an extra rub up. Every one was 
writing letters to catch the first mail home. Every one 
was looking forward to hearing from England again. 
In the morning we should be in Japan. 



183 



CHAPTER V 

FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI, AND THROUGH THE 
INLAND SEA TO KOBE 

Oapan and the cacoethes scrihendi : The whole art of 
medical inspection : The mystery of the one-and-sixpenny 
umbrellas : The odd behaviour of the tea-house woman : 
Concerning cigars : Coaling d la Japonaise ; What is 
" Comshaw " ? : Hissing for courtesy, and other topsy-turvi- 
ties : The coolie and the flour bags : What it feels like to be 
arrested : A Japanese interior : Pilots and the Inland Sea 



CHAPTER V 

It is the fashion to gush about Japan. Everybody does 
so except the Europeans who live there. It is also 
customary for people who have been there for a fort- 
night to write a large book on the subject, just as half 
a century ago well-meaning persons, who had braved 
the Dublin crossing and done the Phoenix Park and 
Killarney, considered themselves qualified to adumbrate 
in ponderous tomes on the "Present State of Ireland." 
In the case of Japan the temptation is so immense that, 
in spite of the best intentions, every one suffering from 
cacoethes scribendi succumbs before it. 

I had been hearing of nothing else since we left 
Singapore. The " Old Man " had been going there for 
more than thirty-five years. He remembered the two- 
s worded Samurai. He had seen the nation skip four 
centuries in twenty years, and his private opinion, 
publicly expressed many times at mess, was that they 
were a nation of cheats, and panders, and not to be 
compared in anything, except cleanliness, with John 
Chinaman. The Chief's and the Mate's conversation 
was for smoking-room circulation only; the Mate used 
always to end his yarns with — " But of course I can't 
now. I'm married." 

The Chief Steward's conversation was mainly on 
china and bronze, ivory and lacquer ware. He had to 
know about these things, as the major part of his income 
was derived from commissions from London dealers. 

137 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

One of the quartermasters, who had been a steve- 
dore's ganger in Yokohama, taught me a lot of 
colloquial Japanese, for use on shore ; and so, long 
before we got past Formosa, I felt already as if I were 
familiar with the country. 

" Nagasaki in the morning. Doc," the " Old Man " 
had said before I turned in ; and finding I could not 
sleep, I had turned up the pages of " Madame Chrysan- 
theme," and renewed acquaintance with that faery little 
butterfly " Kiku " and the more shado\¥y outline of the 
" very tall friend." 

The morning broke cold and raw, cloudy and with a 
nipping wind. The coast looked a drear and ragged 
mass of serrated peaks. This was not the Japan of 
fancy. 

In the heaviest of overcoats, with the collar turned 
up over my ears, I trudged up and down the deck. 

Presently the sun came out, and the hills took on a 
yellow-chrome colour, verging down to terraced green 
below, whilst far in the hinterland the snow-capped 
peaks shone crystalline white, untrodden by the foot of 
man. Lugger-rigged junks scurried along in the choppy 
water, under the protection of the shore, but other signs 
of life there were none. 

" When shall we be there ? " I said to the Chief, 
looking at this scene of desolation. 

To my surprise he answered : " We're almost there 
now." 

He was right ; for presently the ship curled in, and 
a little white lighthouse, bowered in feathery pines, 
appeared, round which we swept into smooth land- 
locked waters. On either side were cone-shaped, pine- 
clad hills, cut into terraces for cultivation. They looked 
so very innocent that it was almost a shock to me when 
the Chief pointed out fresh brown spots on the hills, 
138 



'NAGASAKI LAV Sl'READ OUT OX THE SLOPE OF THE 
MOUNTAIX BEFOKE US— A MASS OF KOOFS"^(See p. 142) 




A STREET IX NAGASAKI 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

and my eyes caught the glint of artillery on either 
side, dominating everjrthing — for Nagasaki is one of 
the greatest ports of Japan, and is fortified like a 
Gibraltar. 

A half-decked sampan, pushed out from the little 
jetty underneath the lighthouse, was now approaching 
us rapidly, rowed by four coolies, standing up, each 
with a long sweep, while a fifth steered from behind 
with one equally long. 

This was the pilot's boat, and we slowed down for it. 
A rope ladder was slung over the side, and the little 
flat-faced pilot climbed quickly on board. On we went 
along the channel, between high hills on either side. 
Our ensign flapped in the breeze behind, the flags 
denoting the ship's name flew from the flying bridge, 
the yellow " Doctor's " flag was on the fore-mast, that 
of the company at the main. 

Passing close below a precipitous tree-clad island, 
the scene of a famous Christian massacre in the fifteenth 
century, we came suddenly upon the harbour itself, and 
saw the masts of many ships, like trees in a forest, 
anchored in the bay beyond. Presently a fussy little 
steam-launch, fiying a red sun on a white ground, and 
having a large white " H " painted on its funnel, came 
alongside. This was the Health Officer's boat, and out 
of it poured no less than eleven Japanese doctors, in 
gold-braided uniform, looking like diminutive railway 
guards. Down went our anchor, and presently all the 
crew were lined up for inspection — Europeans to star- 
board, Chinamen to port. 

Gravely the senior medical officer counted us to 
see if all were present, referring to the ship's papers 
meanwhile. The others scattered round, felt pulses, 
looked at tongues, and prodded the Chinamen in the 
groins to see if they had got the plague. 

139 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

It was all very grave, yet laughable. The senior 
officer said, " There iss one short, Mr. Mate." 

" That's the engineer on duty," said the Chief. 
*' We'll send for him, if you like. Ah, here he comes," 
as the Fourth appeared, hot and sweating in his 
boiler suit, from below. 

Apparently they were satisfied, and soon, with pro- 
found bows, they all trooped down the gangway again, 
got into their launch, and fussed away. 

The Chief was grumpy about it : " What the deuce 
they want so many for, I can't think. And this isn't 
the last of it. In twenty-four hours we'll be at 
another port, and it'll be the same all over again. If 
we reached a third, twelve hours later, it would be the 
same again. It's European ideas overdone." 

"The way those fellows felt pulses showed me that 
half of them weren't doctors at all," I said. 

" I've thought so often," chimed in the Mate. " Half 
of them are service men spying on foreign shipping. 
The Japs are frightfully suspicious since the war, even 
of a company like ours trading here since the Satsuma 
rebellion." 

" How does the Jap doctor, on his native heath, 
impress you. Doc. ? " said the Chief Steward. 

" You remind me, Bruce, of the New York reporters, 
who meet distinguished foreigners half way up the 
bay and ask them what they think of America," I 
said. 

As a matter of fact, I had been unfavourably im- 
pressed, and so declined to be drawn, feeling the injustice 
of the prepossession ; for the Jap in ill-fitting European 
clothes is not seen at his best. He is small and sallow, 
and to our eyes ugly. In his own garments he looks 
courtly and sphinx-like ; he has a priestly air, and some- 
how or other manages to look taller. But in European 
140 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

clothes he courts comparison with Europeans, and 
every difference appears as a defect. 

That was why I did not feel proud of my brothers 
of the scalpel, and also why I declined to be drawn by 
any layman on the subject. Immediately they had 
gone, down came the yellow doctor's flag, and, almost 
simultaneously, half a dozen sampans, that had been 
hovering round till the flag was lowered, hitched on, 
and whilst the anchor was being raised and the ship 
getting under weigh their owners climbed on board, 
and began to spread their wares upon the deck — 
Satsuma, cloisonne, kaga, netsukes, tortoiseshell, ivory, 
lacquer, and all the thousand-and-one things lumped up 
by the sailor under the generic title " curios." 

Most of the dealers seemed to be well known to the 
officers. They spread their wares, and squatted, bare- 
headed, in their kimonos, quietly beside them ; nor 
did they pester one to buy, like the hungry Egyptian 
or the pertinaciously submissive Hindoo — they were 
much too dignified for that. 

An old lady, bundled in half a dozen kimonos, clattered 
up in her high wooden pattens, and squatted aft with 
a basket of monkey nuts, oranges, cigarettes, tobacco, 
matches, and other odds and ends. Soon she was doing 
a roaring trade with the Chinamen, chaffering in in- 
finitesimal fractions of a sen. I bought half a 
dozen boxes of matches from her, for which I paid one 
sen (a farthing), and I knew I had been charged 
800 per cent, more than they were worth. 

Presently we anchored, and soon a regular fleet of 
lighters, each with its huge bamboo yards and latticed 
sail, gathered round, and a crowd of Japanese coolies 
rapidly inundated the ship. 

Dressed in trunk hose, with huge cape-like haori coats 
covered with the heraldic lettering of their guild, they 

141 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

each looked, for all the world, like Hamlet the melan- 
choly Dane. There was an old-world air about them ; 
they might have stepped out of the fifteenth century. 
All were bare-headed. Many had a fillet of lettered 
cloth tied round their temples to keep the sweat from 
running into their eyes as they worked. All wore straw 
sandals, ivhose thongs fitted in a special compartment of 
the sock between the great and second toe. 

Soon they had the hatches off, the sound of the 
steam-winches became all-pervasive, and cargo was 
being dumped rapidly into the satellite lighters. 

It was a cold raw day,' with a suspicion of rain behind 
the hills. Nagasaki lay spread out on the slope of the 
mountain before us — a mass of roofs. It is always 
roofs one sees in a prospect of a Japanese city. The 
houses are never high, the constant earthquakes making 
it unsafe to build ; and so there are no outstanding 
buildings, nothing to catch the eye. Everywhere it is 
roofs with the curious Oriental curving at the eaves 
one's eye so soon gets accustomed to. 

The Japanese seem incapable of rectangularity in 
thought or design. The outline of the country is 
irregular to a degree, plains are almost unknown, and 
the asymmetry of the landscape is reflected in the 
designs of the people : a vase is never quite plumb, 
a cup never quite round, every drawing has in it the 
elements of caricature, every carving the same. A sense 
of perspective seems foreign to the spirit of the people. 

We have learnt from them the beauty of irregularity, 
the unexpected, the bizarre. Their minds have a twist, 
and their art reflects it. 

Westerners, brought up in the Grseco-Roman cult of 
straight lines, and simple curves of thought, and art, 
and action, coming to Japan, find themselves brought 
up short by a new, strange, different atmosphere. Every- 
142 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

thing they have been carefully trained to think correct 
is reversed — their entire sense of values is repudiated. 

This in itself would not matter. The startling thing 
is to find that the Japanese are not wrong, that they 
are often very, very right, that their line of evolution 
is as complete as, perhaps even more complete than, our 
own. 

One so readily slips into an inelastic way of thinking 
there is only one line of progress, that evolution can 
only occur in one direction, that the discovery of the 
contrary comes as a distinct mental jar — all of which is 
very discomposing. 

I found the Chief in the " Old Man's " cabin. 

" Going ashore, Doc. ? " said the " Old Man." 

I nodded. 

" Well, we can all go together. I shall want you at 
the Chinese consulate. Mr. Halahan will explain. The 
launch will be ready in ten minutes." 

It seemed that eleven of our firemen were being paid 
off, their time having expired, and we had to arrange 
to send them home to Hong Kong. ]\Iy part was to 
inspect the new men sent to take their places, and see 
if they were free from plague, &c. 

The Chinamen had already mustered on the deck 
with their belongings, some wrapped in Macassar mats 
of variegated straw, others in curious wooden boxes with 
elaborate locks, others in simple plait baskets. Every 
one of them, I noticed, had two or more English 
umbrellas, worth about eighteen-pence each — one old 
" trimmer " had no less than six, of which he was 
evidently inordinately proud. Off they went in a 
couple of sampans, chattering like parrots. 

The "Old Man," the Chief, and I followed in 
the launch to the " hatoba " (landing-stage). There 
was a 'rickishaw-stand Just outside on the " Bund," 

143 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and soon we three were seated and careering one 
behind the other along the front. The " Old Man " 
and the Chief looked immense behind the little 
wiry men, in limpet-shaped oilskin hats, who were 
pulling them along at a steady jog-trot of about six 
miles an hour. 

The Jap 'rickishaw men are not to be compared with 
the Chinese in stamina. Their physique is poor in the 
extreme. In Singapore a two-seated 'rickishaw is 
common. Here the Jap cannot pull two Europeans, 
though he can make shift with two of his own dainty 
countrywomen with ease. 

Once we had transacted our official business the 
Chief and I left the " Old Man " closeted with the 
agent, and started sight-seeing. We had two hours 
to rush round the city, and so we hailed our 'rickishaws 
and hurried away. Everything was new, everything 
fresh to me. The curious noise in the streets made by 
the wooden pattens of the pedestrians, the absence of 
horses, the constant passage of 'rickishaws with little 
Japanese ladies, chatting, smiling, dressed like dolls, 
with hair elaborately coiled and shining, absorbed my 
attention. 

The itinerant merchants with their stock-in-trade 
slung in two hampers on a bamboo pole, the narrow 
little streets, the open shops innocent of glass, selling 
things of which one could not even imagine the use, 
fascinated me. Everywhere I noticed signs in Japanese 
and Russian, for Nagasaki contains a large Russian 
colony — officers captured and sent there during the 
war, who have taken up permanent abode in Japan 
and sent for their wives and children rather than return 
to Russia. 

That they were none too popular we learnt to our 
cost, after directing our men to take us to a tea-house. 
144 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

Round a corner they swung, along an alley, and 
finally drew up before the doorway of a verandahed 
wooden house. There were four " 'ricks " at the entrance, 
but no other sign of life. 

In we went to a brick hail, where there was a row of 
sandals at the bottom of the brick staircase. Up this 
we went, still seeing no one, till we came to a room on the 
first floor. The floor was covered with beautiful white 
tatami matting, scrupulously clean. It seemed a shame 
to step on it with our heavy boots, but the Chief 
stumped on. 

The walls were of wooden laths, made to slide back 
if necessary. One side of the room was a framework 
of glazed paper, acting as a window. There was no 
furniture except a round table, rising nine inches from 
the floor, with a square hole in the centre of it. 

The Chief clapped his hands — it made one think 
somehow of the Arabian Nights — and sliding one of the 
wooden partitions aside, a girl glided in, bowed, and 
brought us cushions to sit on. Later she returned 
with a brazier, a square box containing lighted 
charcoal, which she set in the opening in the little 
table. Then drawing her kimono coquettishly round 
her, she sat down opposite us, struck lights for our 
cigarettes, and accepted one for herself, smiling all the 
time. 

For some reason or other she directed all her con- 
versation to me, smiling continuously ; but I could 
not make out a word, and finally came to the con- 
clusion she was speaking neither Japanese nor English. 
The Chief also confessed his inability to make out 
what was said. 

Then an old lady came in, wrinkled, grey, looking 
like the Witch of Endor, in a kimono. She stared at 
our muddy boots and looked quite cross. She also 

K 145 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

spoke to me. I asked for tea for myself and beer for 
the Chief in Japanese. Then she went away- 
grumbling. 

" Something seems to be bothering the old party," 
said the Chief. 

" I think she doesn't like our boots/' I said. 

" Hang the boots," he retorted. 

The little maid had followed the old lady out of the 
room, and presently she came back with the tea in 
little handiess cups, a clear straw-coloured fluid, without 
sugar or milk. The Chief would have none of it. 
He demanded beer. The little maid looked very sub- 
dued. She had ceased to smile. She shrank off from 
the Chief's side to mine, as if for protection. The 
old lady brought the beer herself. It was " kirin," 
a Japanese brand, very clear and agreeable, like light 
lager. She demanded two yen for it (about four 
shillings). The Chief was indignant. We both got 
up and walked out, followed by vituperations from the 
old hag. 

The Chief's face was like a confused thunder- 
cloud. 

" I can't make it out," he said. " I've been coming 
to this country for eight years now, and it's the first time 
I've ever been treated like this." 

" I'm sure there's some mistake," I said. 

My 'rickishaw man knew some English, and I turned 
to him. The old lady was holding forth on the Chief's 
iniquities. 

" What thing ? " I said. 

" She say, big fat man belong Russian," he answered. 

" What ? " said the Chief. " Russians, bedad. So 
that's it." His face began to clear. 

" Here, boy, you say, ' No savvy Russian, Belong 
English. ' " 
146 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

The boy talked rapidly to the old. woman. The other 
boy explained to me : " She no likee Russian. Him 
kill two — three her son." 

Gradually the old woman was made to understand, 
and then she was suddenly all penitent. She made us 
uncomfortable by her abasement, wanted us back, 
wanted to do all sorts of things for us, apologised in 
endless circumlocutions. 

" Let's get," said the Chief irritably. 

So after assuring her it was all right, we climbed into 
our 'rickishaws hastily, and fled. It was an unpleasant 
adventure, the only one the Chief had ever had in 
Japan, where, he said, the foreigner is safer from insult 
or injury than if he were in any European country, not 
excepting England. 

To soothe his ruffled feelings lie insisted on going to 
an hotel. The hotels in Nagasaki are not good, and 
everything is very dear. A curiosity about Japanese 
hotels is that all the responsible people in them — 
managers, cashiers, head waiters, &e. — are Chinamen, 
for the Japanese cannot count properly, having no head 
for mathematics. 

After the Chief had been soothed, we went the 
round of the shops and curio stores. The Nagasaki 
shops are famous for Satsuma ware — ^the province itself 
is just over the mountains — and tortoiseshell. I was 
beginning to enjoy myself, bargaining for stuff I did 
not want, when the Chief looked at his watch. Our 
quarrel and the " soothing " had taken up more time 
than we had thought. 

" We'll have to buck. Ship sails at eight, and it's 
close to dinner-time now," he said. 

So we had a hurried rush back to the hatoba, where 
our men, with all the aplomb of a London cabby, tried 
to overcharge us 800 per cent. My Japanese came 

147 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

in useful then. I had a stock of expressions, which 
I used most effectively. Some of them I did not quite 
understand, but I had been told they would be useful 
on occasions such as these. The 'rickishaw men 
evidently came to the conclusion we were " residents," 
and so not to be fooled like tourists. They dropped 
two dollars in price, stood grinning as we got into a 
sampan, and with a courteous " Sayonara " bade us 
" good-bye." 

When darkness fell we steamed out quietly in the 
night amongst the islands, through the Tsushima Strait, 
the scene of the most famous naval battle of modern 
times. We were bound for Moji, the coaling station 
at the entrance of the Inland Sea. 

The navigation here is ticklish, and the " Old Man " 
tayed on the bridge all night, yet in the morning he 
ooked as fresh as if he had just got up. 

After breakfast I watched the islands as we passed 
and the snow-peaks on the mainland, alternating with 
brown velvet hills. Approaching Moji, we saw the 
smoke rising above the hills, concealing the entrance, 
and then, rounding a pine-clad promontory, we came 
on a little white lighthouse with a flagstaff. 

Up went the ship's flags — ^the yellow quarantine at the 
fore, the " House flag " at the main, and the old British 
ensign floating out behind. 

The telegraph rang " half speed," and we rounded 
the corner, to see the roofs of a little village nestling in 
a tiny bay on the lee-side, climbing up in straggling 
groups of houses to the terraced land above, with its 
little temple and steep graveyard, bristling with rect- 
angular tombstones, dominating all. 

I had a curious feeling that I had seen it all before, 
and could not quite think why, till I remembered that 
in my cabin lay a fan with a picture on it, drawn in a 
148 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

few inimitable strokes, which might have passed as a 
reproduction of the scene before me. Below, a steam- 
launch lay at anchor, flying the now familiar blood-red 
sun-flag of Japan. Down went the starboard anchor, 
with a rattle of chains, and we were hove-to waiting 
permission to proceed. 

Presently a sampan put off from the village and 
drew alongside the launch. Then the launch started 
for us, and soon we were boarded by the pilot and four 
gold-braided medicos — only four this time. They all 
disappeared into the " Old Man's " cabin, and then 
I suddenly remembered I had forgotten to inspect the 
eleven new firemen we had taken on the previous day. 
When therefore the " Old Man " sent for me, I thought 
it might be necessary to throw out a bluff about them 
should they ask any awkward questions. They were 
all smoking in the " Old Man's " cabin, sitting stiffly in 
their chairs like ladies at an " At Home " who do not 
know one another well. 

The " Old Man " introduced me to the P.M.O., and 
I signed a lot of papers. 

" Have a cigar, Doc? " said the " Old Man." 

Now I knew the " Old Man's " cigars. There were 
several grades. He kept a job lot of Burmah cheroots, 
at a dollar a hundred, specially for Japanese officials. 
They are a little better than the English " tuppenny " 
advertised as having a " rich, nutty flavour," and it 
was these the medicos were smoking. 

I said, " Thank you, sir," dodged the open box, and 
found a fine Havana for myself. The " Old Man's " 
eyes twinkled. 

It was all very solemn — like a funeral. The P.M.O. 
alone could speak English, and his vocabulary was 
limited. 

" Had I been to his beautiful country before ? — 

149 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

No. — ^Ah, my visit then should have been later. — The 
cherry-blossom would not be fully out before I left. — 
Yes, oh yes ; it is very beautiful as it is. — But the 
cherry-blossom " 

Presently we made a movement to the deck, where 
the crew were lined up, but the examination was merely 
perfunctory. We were not landing — merely calling for 
coal — so it did not matter. 

The " Old Man " and I bowed them off the ship, down 
came the yellow flag, up came the anchor, and we 
steamed between the hills into the Shimonoseki 
Straits. 

The mountains ran up high on either side, pine-clad, 
snow-capped, in the distance. Sleepy little villages 
met one's eye at every turn. Once we had to make a 
detour to pass a sunken steamer, hulled by the Russians 
and chased into port dming the war. 

Gradually the scenery became less sylvan — a railway 
track appeared along one shore, and on it American 
engines were hauling train-loads of coal wagons. Then 
came huge cement works, with great tall factory 
chimneys, huddled houses underneath, and a general 
air of murkiness suggestive of the Potteries. 

Soon a perfect forest of masts appeared, and we passed 
junks of every known rig; tramp steamers, English, 
American, German, Jap, and Chinese; one of the 
Canadian Pacific '* Empress " boats, looking like a 
queen amongst the squat merchantmen; and then the 
trim grey outline of a Japanese cruiser, anchored in the 
bay. The cruiser dipped to us as we passed, and, at 
a signal from the " Old Man " on the bridge, v/e dipped 
in response to the compliment. 

Finally we reached our moorings, and dropped anchor 
in the centre of the strait, between Moji, smoky with 
coal-dust and factories, a parvenu of twenty years, and 
150 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

Shimonoseki on the opposite side, an ancient historic 
city, with memories of a thousand years behind it. 

Shimonoseki looks down upon Moji. Moji pretends 
it does not care, and grows larger, weslthier, and more 
ugly yearly. It was the discovery of coal that made 
Moji spring suddenl)' frcm an insignificant village to a 
position of rivalry with Shimonoseki ; and it was largely 
for coaling purposes we were there. 

An hour after we had anchored one would hardly 
have recognised the ship, for the curio-dealer was every- 
where, and the spick-and-span, comparative loneliness 
of the decks was confused by a multiplicity of exotic 
objects and figures. 

In one corner three separate Japanese families had 
forgathered, started a charcoal fire, and were cooking 
their mid-day meal. It was " Chow " time, and while 
the men squatted the women moved about, helping 
them to tea out of ampulla-like jars, and lading boiled 
rice out of firkins. The babies all the while, lolling 
with nodding heads, slept peacefully, strapped on their 
mothers' backs. Most of the women were grimy, and 
had their heads tied up in handkerchiefs to protect 
their hair, for they were present to assist in coaling the 
ship. 

Japan is a country of striking surprises. One goes 
there with visions of dainty porcelain-like little ladies ; 
one's first intimate contact with them is when one sees 
coarse harridans doing the work of navvies loading coal 
at Moji. 

The process of coaling is exceedingly ingenious. All 
the coal is carried by hand from the lighters to the 
bunkers in little round wooden baskets, holding perhaps 
twenty pounds. Nevertheless the number of people 
working, and the rapidity with which it is done, makes 
Moji one of the quickest coaling ports in the world. 

151 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The method is quite different from that at Port Said 
or Singapore. From the ship's side a bamboo scaffolding 
is erected down to the lighters, so arranged that a 
number of planks, making a staircase, can be laid on it. 
On each step stands a coolie, and the baskets are passed 
up in a living chain from the lighters, step by step, to 
the ship. 

At the top the baskets are received by the women, 
who slide them along a plank, topple their contents 
into the bunkers, and then throw the empty baskets 
back again into the lighters. 

They were busy at it when we came up from " tiffin," 
and I took the opportunity of snapshotting one fat 
old lady with a baby on her back while the sun was out 
for a moment. She saw me in the act, and immediately 
demanded a " comshaw," " Comshaw " in the Far East 
is as " bakhshish " in Egypt. There is always a " com- 
shaw " in every transaction. If you buy anything 
you demand " comshaw." The " 'rick "-man who takes 
you to a tea-house or curio-store expects a small " com- 
shaw " from the proprietors. When one pays a bill 
one expects a small " comshaw " for doing so. It is 
all " comshaw " in the Far East. 

I gave the old lady a cigarette as a " comshaw." 
This she accepted with a smile, immediately going over 
to the Chief, who was sitting on the hatch-coaming, 
for a match. Then with a contented air she recom- 
menced the monotonous task of passing, passing, passing 
baskets again. And all the while the baby slept serenely 
on her back. 

At " tirTm " the " Old Man " had been laying down 
the law about curios. 

" The only thing worth buying here. Doc, is a sort 
152 




L()OKlX(i 1><)\VX FKOM THE SHIP INTO THE CoAL LICHTK 
AT MOJI 




^H1■; SA^V ME IN THE ACT, AXD IMMEDIATELY DEMANDED 
A 'COMSHAW'" (See p. 1. -.2) 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

of carved wooden tray. They used to bring them on 
board, but I haven't seen one for years now." 

" I'll try to find some when I go ashore at Shimo- 
noseki this afternoon," I said. 

" Don't let them do you in the price," he said. 

" They're pretty sure to," chuckled the Chief. 
" But he'll probably not be able to find the things, 
if they're so scarce." 

Of course that determined me to do my best to find 
them, and so when I landed at the Shimonoseki hatoba 
I decided to hunt about on foot, on the chance of finding 
what I wanted, and let the 'rickishaw man follow after 
me. 

A coolie hurrying past with a huge bale of rice nearly 
ran me down. He tacked sideways, hissed, and went on. 
I was astonished, even the Japanese labourers being 
credited with fine manners. 

All the shops, in the little two-storeyed wooden houses 
that lined one of the main streets, had open fronts, and 
the merchants sat cross-legged in them behind their 
goods, smoking the little Japanese pipe, drinking tea with 
their families, plajnng some game like draughts, attending 
to a stray customer, or totting up their accounts with 
the aid of the abacus, a square frame with coloured balls 
on wires, like that used in schools to teach children to 
count. Walking along one seemed, as it were, admitted 
into the whole family life of the community. I stopped 
opposite one shop where five chests of green tea, of vary- 
ing degrees of fineness, stood exposed. An old lady 
sat on the raised floor behind. \'^Tien I looked at her 
she hissed just like the coolie, and then bowed. I 
moved hurriedly away. This was getting distressing. 
I remembered stories of a sudden hatred of foreigners 
since the Russian war, remembered that Shimonoseki 
was the scene of the firing on the Allied fleets, and 

153 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

that a coolie had attempted to assassinate Li Hung 
Chang in Shimonoseki after the signing of the Chinese 
treaty. Perhaps Shimonoseki was ant i -foreign ? My 
first experience in Nagasaki also had been unfortunate. 
I began to feel uncomfortably alone. The company's 
office was a little further along the street, and I went 
in to get some general directions as to what one should 
look at. When I told the clerk, who had been to lunch 
with us on the ship, of my experiences with the coolie 
and the old woman, he laughed uproariously. 

" Thanks awfully, Doc." 

"What?" I said. 

" It's the best Joke I've heard for a month. Why, 
man, it's a sign of courtesy to a superior to suck in one's 
breath like that." 

" Well, I'm jiggered ! " was all I could say in response. 

Certainly things were topsy-turvy in this country. 
I saw a house being built. The first thing put up was 
the roof. The carpenters who were sawing wood below 
had saws broader at the tip than the handle, exactly 
the opposite to ours, and sawed towards themselves, 
instead of away, as we do. The magazines I saw in the 
bookshops started with a coloured frontispiece on the 
back of the last page, the letterpress worked also from 
the last towards the first, the type read from right to 
left, vertically downwards, and all the " footnotes " were 
at the top of the page. 

I wandered aimlessly about the streets, watching the 
life of the common people. Everything was strange, 
everything interesting. The streets were narrow and 
without footpaths. A covered runnel, which was flushed 
out every day, ran along both sides, close to the houses. 
Men with bundles of twigs tied in a " besom " swept 
the streets. Little boys and girls trotted along on their 
high pattens, coming back from school, with their books 
154, 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

tucked up in the sleeves of their little kimonos. Life 
seemed very intimate, owing to the constant visions of 
the interiors one got through the open fronts of the 
houses. In one shop a barber was shaving the head 
of a little boy of about six months. His mother held 
him in her lap, a quaint figure of fun in his little gar- 
ments, whilst the barber shaved the top of his crown, 
leaving a fringe around like a priest's tonsure, the baby 
all the time looking out on the world with round, un- 
thinking eyes, rolling its head about in the purposeless 
manner of infancy. 

Policemen, little men in yachting-caps and swords, 
swaggered about keeping law and order in a country 
where there are gaols, imported en bloc with other 
European ideas, but no people to put into them. Up 
and down the streets itinerant hawkers moved with 
their stock-in-trade slung on a bamboo pole, working 
a rattle with the unengaged hand to call attention to 
their wares. 

At every street corner, almost, stood a man with a 
stand on which a charcoal brazier heated a little boiler, 
the steam of which escaping made a high hissing note. 
This was an itinerant pipe-mender. Every now and 
then a curious figure passed, a man with a kind of 
flageolet, who paused, played a few melancholy sweet 
notes, and then moved on again. When two or three 
had passed me I discovered that each was blind, but 
at the time I could not make out their occupation. 
Afterwards I learnt they were masseurs — ^massage is 
always done by the blind in Japan — and the flute 
note was their call to those who might require their 
services. Once or tv/ice I came across houses belonging 
to the more important people. One particularly struck 
me. It was surrounded by a courtyard, and had a most 
elaborately carved dragon gateway, gazing through 

155 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

which I noted that on the wide shallow steps of the 
verandah six open Chinese umbrellas were spread, 
betokening the number of visitors within. 

While I was looking at them a company of Japanese 
cavalry on rough little Manchurian ponies passed. It 
was difficult to believe that these were the men who had 
beaten the picked troops of Russia, — ^somehow they 
looked such light-hearted boys. 

Climbing up a long flight of steps to the parallel street 
above, I was gazing, pipe in mouth, at the " Torii " at 
the entrance to a Shinto temple, when three little 
schoolboys passed me. They stopped, looked at me, 
and grinned from ear to ear. It was evidently my pipe 
that amused them, and, smiling back, I let them 
look at it. The oldest of the three returned it with 
a solemn elaborate bow, and then they all laughed 
again, and ran clattering off on their wooden pattens. 
Every one seemed to be smiling that day, except a 
solitary priest who stood like a sentinel at the temple 
gates. 

A pathway led from the temple to a little graveyard 
beyond, and a young girl, washing clothes, had appro- 
priated the two sides to hang them out to dry. Several 
garments had fallen on the path, blown down by the 
wind, and so I walked carefully to avoid them. Seeing 
this, she smiled, and called out something to some one 
in the house behind. This brought out the old grand- 
mother, holding in her arms a chubby little infant. 
The old lady bowed to me like a queen, and I felt like 
a mountebank bowing back in response. 

Beyond the graveyard the path led down by steps 
to the street below, and along it two geisha girls, looking 
like Solomon in all his glory, were picking their steps 
with dainty feet. 

A man turned to stare after them, but apparently 
156 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

they were totally unconscious of his admiration, for 
they walked on steadily, without a sign of recognition 
till they came to the corner. 

Then one of them looked back, but by this time 
the man had gone. Coming along the street on the 
opposite side, a coolie, carrying a pile of flour-bags, 
had placed them in a heap on the ground to rest. A 
little toddling infant found them there, and immediately 
proceeded, with much joy, to roll in them, covering 
himself completely with flour-dust. When I arrived 
the mother had just become aware of what was happen- 
ing, and had rushed to the child, taken him by the 
hand, and started reviling the chuckling coolie. The 
child was taking absolutely no notice of the mother, 
but instead was crowing joyously at the coolie — a ragged, 
bare-legged person with an exceedingly humorous face, 
who was snapping his fingers for the child's amuse- 
ment, making weird grimaces, and all the while carrying 
on a wordy warfare with the mother. His retorts 
must have been immensely amusing, for all the onlookers 
were kinking with laughter, and the mother looked very 
discomposed. At length, finding the contest too hot 
for her, she seized the infant upside down, and fled 
incontinently, followed by a volley of laughter from the 
onlooking crowd. 

By this time I had begun to get a general idea of 
the topography, for I had discovered that most of the 
streets lay parallel with one another on the side of the 
mountain, and were connected at intervals by cross 
flights of stone steps. 

All the time I was wandering aimlessly, looking at 
odd-looking temples, queer signs, or anything strange 
in the shops, I was thinking about my wooden trays, 
watching for them and never finding them, and so it 
was quite an unexpected delight when, turning into what 

157 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

appeared a cul-de-sac, I came upon a wood-carver, 
squatting on the dais of his open workshop with his tools 
around him, and caught him in the act of making the 
very things I wanted. He could speak no English, 
but he was most polite. He motioned me with 
an arm-wave to ransack his stock-in-trade of carved 
things, while he went on steadily at his work. 
When he saw I had lit on what I wanted he stopped, 
got up, and came over. I had selected a nest of five, 
carved with a design of a temple in some thirty masterly 
strokes. 

I asked him how much he wanted for them, and he 
took out coins, laid them in order, and showed me what 
he required. 

It seemed so ridiculously little I paid it on the spot. 
He looked so dignified, and was so evidently an artist 
to his finger-tips, that it seemed like a disparagement 
of his work attempting to chaffer. 

I called my " 'rick "-man and placed them in the 
" kuruma " ; and then, feeling I had done what I came 
out for, let myself luxuriate, trundling aimlessly around 
the city at the " kurumaya's " fancy. 

In one of the streets we passed a detachment of in- 
fantry, the men walking hand in hand like school- 
children, and again I found it difficult to imagine those 
happy-looking boys could have been through the grim 
struggle of Port Arthur. 

Passing the soldiers, and swinging round a corner, 
we nearly ran into a curious procession. It was some 
sort of " service." There were kimonoed women with 
samisens and biwas playing, and a man in a semi- 
military uniform talking to the people. They had a 
flag. I recognised that. It was our old friend the 
Salvation Army flag. I regret to say I laughed. It 
was all so miexpectedly incongruous. Yet any one 
158 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

who knows Japan, and what the Salvation Army has 
done for the women of Japan, feels that their work can 
certainly not be laughed at. 

I had brought my camera ashore with me, and taken 
several snapshots as I went around the city. Now I 
fetched it from the 'rickishaw to snap the Army meeting. 
It was the last plate I had. 

Immediately I found myself in trouble. More troops 
were passing at the time. A Japanese officer looked 
at me, saw what I was doing, and before I knew what 
was happening I was under arrest. I looked around, 
and every face was hostile. Even the 'rickishaw man 
glared at me stonily. 

The officer pointed to my camera. A soldier stretched 
out his hand towards it, but I held on. The officer 
waved him back, and then in peremptory tones, though 
I could not understand a word lie said, gave me to 
understand I was to march straight ahead. 

Apparently I was being taken to gaol. 

For the life of me, I could not make out what was 
the matter, and that made me all the more uncomfort- 
able. But I evidently had to march, and that pretty 
quickly. We went along the street, two men in front, 
two behind me, a crowd following, and my 'rickishaw 
man, who hadn't been paid, in the rear. 

Turning a corner, I recognised the shop where the old 
lady had hissed at me, and knew the agent's office was 
near. I was lucky. The identical clerk who had 
laughed at me was coming out of the office. I beckoned 
him with my hand, and he came quickly forward. 
The officer evidently knew him, and allowed him to speak 
to me. 

" What on earth's the row ? " he said. 

" Dashed if I know." 

He saw the camera in my hand, and immediately 

159 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

said, " You haven't been fool enough to be taking photos, 
have you ? " 

" Yes. Why not ? " 

" Oh Lord ! Man, this place is fortified no end. 
They're as suspicious as old maids, and no one is 
allowed, under any pretext, to take photos near fortified 
places." 

" I've been snapping all over the place," I said in 
despair. " I suppose they'll smash my camera, and 
give the company no end of trouble clearing me." 

" It's the devil of a mess. I'll do my best to explain ; 
but, dash it all, there's a big notice on the hatoba against 
it," he said. 

" Very likely. Never saw it, though." 

He turned to the officer and explained volubly, but 
apparently with very little effect. 

" I'm afraid it's not much good," he said. 

I was beginning to think things might be becoming 
serious, when a Japanese gentleman, who was passing, 
and had had to get out of his 'rickishaw on account of 
the crowd, stared at me, smiled suddenly, came forward, 
and held out his hand. 

I had not the faintest idea whom he was, but he 
knew me, pronounced my name, and was evidently a 
friend. I shook hands with him as if he had been my 
long-lost brother. The officer evidently knew him also ; 
he saluted gravely. The agent's clerk knew him, and 
seized the opportunity of asking us all into the office. 
In a few minutes the whole complexion of things was 
altered. They talked away about it in the office, 
and all the time I was puzzling my brain trying to make 
out my unknown friend's identity. 

Presently they announced their solution. He had 
been talking away the officer's suspicions, and they 
had mutually agreed that my camera was to be taken, 
160 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

the plates developed, any not approved of destroyed, 
and the rest returned to me on the morrow. 

" We sail this evening," I said. " Can't I have 
them then ? " 

But to this the officer could not agree. The agent, 
however, promised to send the camera on to Kobe, if 
we sailed before it arrived ; and so it was settled. 

We went down again into the street. My 'rickishaw 
man, now all smiles, pushed forward through the crowd, 
which quickly dispersed, and my friend's man did the 
same. 

" I haven't seen you since the old days at ' King's ' 
years ago. Whatever brings you here ? " he said. 

And then I remembered a little Japanese student, 
whom no one took much notice of, working away 
laboriously at a dissection of the " middle ear," to whom 
I had one day, in a good-tempered moment, given a 
demonstration on some point he did not quite under- 
stand. Afterwards he had got into the habit of coming 
to me in a difficulty, and I had always done my best 
to explain. I had forgotten all about him, but now it all 
came back. 

The agent's clerk said, " You're lucky to have got 
out of it so well. Doc." 

I thought so too myself, and said so as I thanked him 
for his help. 

" But what's my friend's name ? I'm ashamed to 
say I don't know it." 

" You make me laugh," he said. " Why, it's 
Dr. Tomatoda, the Principal Medical Officer in charge of 
troops here." 

" Right. I've got it now ; thanks." 

I went to thank him and say good-bye before direct- 
ing my man to take me to the hatoba, but he was 
not to be shaken off so lightly. 

L 161 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

He had got it into his head that I would have a poor 
impression of the Japanese after my experience, and 
was most apologetic for the bother I had had. He 
insisted, therefore, that I should go back with him to 
his own home and drink tea with him ; he would have 
no denial. 

So we were soon stringing out, his 'rickishaw man in 
front, and in a few minutes we arrived in front of a 
Japanese house of the better sort. A perfect little 
flower of a maid came running out into the piazza, 
and pulled off our boots. His were elastic-sided. 
Previously I had noticed that most Japanese in Euro- 
pean costume wore elastic-sided boots, and had wondered 
why, for somehow in England one associates them 
with the Nonconformist conscience. Watching her 
struggling to unlace mine, I soon saw their convenience 
in a country like Japan. I tried to assist, but she 
would not let me. Eventually, however, between us we 
got them off, and I followed my host through a sliding 
screen he had pushed aside into the house, feeling 
very queer indeed going to pay a formal call in stockinged 
feet. We came into a room quite bare of furniture, 
covered with tatami matting fitting in squares. It was 
empty. 

" My father would have nothing European in the 
home," he said. 

" And a good thing too," I answered quickly. 

" You think so really," he said in surprise. 

" I'm sure of it," I answered sincerely. 

I was pleased he did not ask me why, because I 
should have had to explain that the Japanese, though 
they have such exquisite taste in everything pertaining 
to their own methods of living and furnishing, when 
they begin to copy European models, seem to lose all 
their good taste, and manage to imitate the very worst 
162 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

traits of the models, missing the best completely. As 
a consequence houses built and furnished in Japan on 
European lines are inimitable examples of how not to 
do it. 

Pushing aside a leaf of the partition, we came into a 
room at the back of the house, looking on to a garden, 
with a little pond, a bridge over it, and a quaint little 
shrine beyond, placed on the ridge of a miniature 
mountain, green with very small, but exceedingly old- 
looking, gnarled matsu trees. 

Turning my eyes back to the room, I saw that in a 
recess a gaily painted scroll hung down, and at its base 
was a vase with a single sprig of cherry-blossom. A few 
bright-coloured cushions lay on the matted floor. There 
was no other furniture. 

Presently two girls, in red-trimmed, modified kimo- 
nos, with their hair in pig-tails, came into the room. 
They were his sisters, and the costume, I afterwards 
understood, was that prescribed for " high-school " 
girls. 

They bowed profoundly to their brother and me, and 
then ambled round in their little white " tabi " (one- 
toed socks) finding cushions for us to sit on, smiling all 
the time, and waiting on us hand and foot. 

They were introduced to me as " My sisters, Hana 
and Kiku," very graceful, clear-eyed little girls, very 
dimpled and smiling. They looked exactly like skil- 
fully made dolls. 

" They will want to speak English with you very 
much. They learn it at school. Will you be graciously 
pleased ? " he said gravely. 

I was " graciously pleased." I felt somehow as if I 
were acting in a Gilbertian opera, and took it all quite 
seriously. 

Once or twice I felt like protesting, remembering 

163 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

they were ladies, whilst they were looking after my 
comfort, bringing the " tabakabon " — a brazier for 
smoking — lighting my cigarette for me, drawing screens 
to shut off the draught from me. Afterwards I was 
glad I did not, as it is counted the height of rudeness 
for any Japanese lady to delegate to servants any small 
personal attentions necessary to the comfort of her 
male relations and their honoured guests. 

The little maid I had first seen brought in tea. It 
was served by Hana in the usual little cups without 
handles, and was the usual straw-coloured fluid I was 
now beginning to like. 

Presently their tongues loosened, and they plied me 
with questions. I wish I could repeat the quaintness of 
their English. They asked me many things — often the 
most awkward things — with the most innocent, round, 
inquiring eyes : 

Was I married ? . . . No. Then who looked after 
the comfort of my honourable father and mother, 
since I had no wife ? Was it true that in England 
only one wife was allowed, and no Mekake (a Mekake 
is a sort of left-handed morganatic wife) ? When I 
told them that was so, they thought it rather nice, but 
they were evidently horrified to think that I had left 
my father and mother to the care of strangers while 
I was so far away from home. Was it true that English 
ladies wore no clothes above the waist in the evenings — 
they had seen pictures of evening dress — and was it 
true that they allowed men they hardly knew to put 
their arms round their waists (this was at dances) ? 
Their brother had told them so, but they were difficult 
to persuade of its truth. 

I had to confess it was more or less true, and I am 
afraid they were shocked again. 

I think they must have been catechising me for 
164 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

over an hour. Time flew rapidly, and it was with 
regret I tore myself away from their fascinating little 
presences. But the day was flying, and I had been 
warned to be back at the ship before dinner. I made 
as ceremonious an exit as I could, feeling boorishly 
awkward beside these polished bowing little ladies. 

Dr. Tomatoda insisted on seeing me to the hatoba, 
got me a sampan, instructed the man where to take me, 
and reiterated warmly his invitation to look him up 
again when the ship came back after leaving Yokohama. 
With a pleasant feeling that my afternoon had been 
well spent, I climbed up the gangway to the deck above, 
carr\-ing my precious wooden trays under my arm. 

On the way to the ship I began to fear I had been 
done over the price, remembering I had made no bargain. 
So when I got on deck I stealthily hid them under my 
coat, and slunk do^m to my cabin to get rid of them. 

Coaling was still going on, and, coming on deck again, 
I was hailed by the Chief. 

" D'ye remember about those trays ? " he said. " Well, 
funny thing, just after you had gone a dealer brought 
some on board. I bought one, a beauty, and was going 
to get one for you too, but I thought I'd wait, though 
I didn't think you'd be able to find any ashore." 

" I got some," I said. 

" You did, did vou ? Hope they haven't diddled you. 
Doc." 

" Let's see yours," I said hastily, to change the 
subject. 

Nothing loath, he took me below. It certainly was 
a beauty — the same size as the largest of mine, and 
with the same design on it. 

He was immensely pleased. He had paid one-third 
of what had been asked. 

" How much ? " I said. He told me. 

165 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" They can't diddle me," he said. " I've been 
coming too long to the country for that." 

I am afraid I laughed in his face. It was partly the 
relief of it ; for I had paid just one and a half the price 
of his one for my five. When I told him he refused to 
believe me ; but on my affirming again positively, he 
said, finally, with a crestfallen air, " Well, I'm 
jiggered ! I'll never give you advice about prices again, 
Doc." 

And he never did. On the contrary, he came to me. 
I had established my reputation as a bargainer. The 
thought of it makes me laugh still. 

At " one bell," just before dinner, a little Jap came 
up the gangway. I had got out of mufti, and was 
standing in uniform at the companion hatch. He made 
a bee-line for me, drew himself up, saluted, and then 
said in an explosive voice, " I am the post-office." 

It was evidently a sentence he had learnt off by 
heart, he had probably been repeating it all the way 
out in the sampan, and now he shot it rapidly at me 
before he should forget. 

At the same time he thrust a long blue document at 
me. I looked at it, found it was a telegram for the 
captain, and so directed the " post-office " to his 
cabin. 

Its receipt evidently put the " Old Man " in a bad 
temper. All the way up from Singapore he had been 
talking of a great friend of his, a Captain Outram, one 
of the pilots of the Inland Sea. At Nagasaki he had 
wired for him to take the ship through the narrows to 
Kobe, and this wire in reply was to say he could not 
come. 

The Inland Sea is rather a difficult piece of navigation, 
and all ships have to carry pilots according to Japanese 
Government regulations. Most of the pilots are Euro- 
166 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

peans, but an increasing number of Japanese qualify 
for the posts yearly, and in a decade will have supplanted 
the " foreigners " altogether, for as the older pilots 
die out they are replaced by natives, the Japanese 
wishing to keep the pilotage of their own waters in their 
own hands. 

After dinner, however, another wire came, saying 
that if we did not start before 10 a.m. Outram could 
get to us in time to take us through. 

" I'll wait," said the " Old Man." " He's the only 
pilot I care to have on my ship." 

" We won't have finished coaling before six in the 
morning," said the Chief. 

" That's all right, then," said the " Old Man." 

Finding we were not to start that night, I had had 
some thoughts of going ashore again, but the " Old 
Man " dissuaded me. 

" Certainly, Doc, you can go if you like. But if you 
take my advice you won't. It's very risky. There's a 
nine-knot current in these Straits, and a doctor was 
drowned here a few voyages ago coming back in a 
sampan." 

It was a cold raw night, there were no sampans about, 
nobody else wanted to go ashore, and the " Old Man's " 
lugubrious yarn daunted me. Afterwards I found it 
was the same tale at every port. Apparently doctors 
were in the habit of getting drowned at ports, always 
the port we were in at the time. The Mate said it 
was more or less true. Doctors were clumsy coming 
aboard in bad weather in the dark, they could not 
manage with the sailor's sure-footedness, sampan-men 
will never make the slightest effort to save a drowning 
man because they have a superstition that thereby they 
acquire all the sins he has committed, and so several 
doctors actually had been drowned close to their ships. 

167 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" But of course what the ' Old Man ' wants, though he 
is too clever to say so, is to have you handy in case of 
an accident. Accidents don't happen much at sea, 
where the doctor is always available ; they happen 
in ports, the only place where cargo is being handled, 
and usually occur when the only man who knows how 
to tackle them is ashore sight-seeing. That's why the 
' Old Man ' spins ' cuffers ' at you." 

" The ' Old Man's ' as wily as a fox," said the Chief. 
" He has to be to keep his end up." 

" He's euchred the Doc. all right this time," said the 
Second. "Never mind. Doc. We want a fourth at 
bridge. Come along." 

After breakfast next morning there were two people 
discomposed on the ship. One was the " Old Man " 
— it was nine o'clock, and no Captain Outram had 
arrived — I was the other — no camera and no plates 
had appeared. I had kept my adventure with the 
camera to myself and asked the agent to do likewise, 
knowing I should be the object of ponderous jokes all 
the rest of the voyage should it leak out. So I did not 
care to appear to be watching for anything, yet I could 
not help continually squinting towards the Shimonoseki 
side. The " Blue Peter " was flying at the fore, the coal 
was all in, the sca:ffolding and lighters gone, the curio- 
dealers were packing up their wares, the bo'sun and his 
men beginning to clear the decks of the accumulated 
coal-dust, steam was up, and everything was in the 
uneasy state of imminent departure. Still there was 
nothing from the shore. At last, mindful of the watched 
kettle proverb, I decided not to look any more ; and it 
was then when I had gone below to see a Chinaman, 
and the " Old Man " had ambled for'ard to look at some- 
thing in the fo'castle, that the white launch ran alongside, 
168 




THE XUNOBIKI FALLS AT KOBE (See p. 177) 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

put our pilot aboard, and with him my precious camera 
and two plates — two out of a dozen. Apparently I 
had been photographing all the places I ought not, 
but I was so relieved to see my Kodak again that even 
the loss of ten plates seemed trivial in comparison. 

In a few minutes all was bustle. The telegraph rang 
sharply, up came the anchor, and the sound of churning 
water caused a stampede amongst the curio-men. Down 
the gangway they scuttled to their dragging sampans, 
cast off, and were soon dancing specks behind. 

The shore slipped past us like a panorama. In 
through a narrow neck we steamed, between cliffs 
honeycombed with guns, and in a moment we were 
in the Inland Sea beyond. An upturned Jap 
steamer, lying on a sandbank a total loss, showed how 
careful one had to be in this treacherous channel, and 
made me appreciate why the " Old Man " had been so 
keen to wait for his friend Captain Outram. 

The Inland Sea is an immense stretch of water be- 
tween the middle and the two lower islands (Kyushu 
and Shikoku), about 200 miles long, studded with 
hundreds of little islands, through which one's vessel 
winds a devious way, past people and villages forgotten 
through the ages. 

It is nevertheless one of the most frequented water- 
ways in the world, and as we steamed through at full 
speed we passed every style of craft afloat, from the 
mediaeval junk to " square " and " fore-and-aft " 
rigged sailing ships of the latest type, from little tin-pot 
" tramp " steamers to the lordliest of all ships seen 
in Eastern waters — the beautiful " Empress " boats 
of the " C.P.R." 

In the summer the islands are said to be of the most 
entrancing tropical loveliness, but as we saw them then, 

169 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

bare and wind-swept, with snow-clad mountain-peaks 
sinking into a pearly haze behind, they looked more 
like the Outer Hebrides than anything I had ever seen 
elsewhere ; and as the little Gaelic quartermaster said 
to me in a voice of pride, " They're naw in it, sir, wie 
the Kyles o' Bute." 

After " tiffin " I came across Captain Outram strutting 
about the deck. We were now in open waters, and he 
had taken the opportunity to leave the bridge for a 
spell. 

" No," he said in the course of conversation, " I 
have no use for the Japanese. Lived with them twenty 
years, and like them less each year. There's an old 
saying about Japan that what it lacks are ; 

' Men of honour. 
Women of virtue, 
Birds that sing. 
Flowers that smell.' 

The man that said that must have been a sailor, for 
he's all wrong about the last two. But the first part's 
right. It makes me sick to hear the ' P. & O.-ist ' 
talking frothy nonsense about advancement, culture, 
civilisation — the mission of Japan. It's all tommy-rot. 
The reason Europe respects Japan is because she has 
learnt all the latest scientific ways of killing, and can 
hold her own at the game. Between ourselves, the 
Japanese hold us all in contempt as barbarians. They 
use us because they want to learn certain useful things 
from us, and as soon as they've mastered it they throw 
us aside. 'Japan for the Japanese ' is the cry now, and 
people like us, who have had them in leading-strings, 
have got to quit. They've learnt all we can teach 
170 



FROM NAGASAKI TO MOJI 

them. The Jap is an Oriental to the core, and don't 
you forget it." 

" Ever been in Korea, Doc. ? " he said. 

" No," I answered. 

" Well, perhaps your ship will call there on the way 
home. If it does, you'll see how a brave, cultured people, 
without the military spirit, get treated by the Japs 
when they have a free hand. It's the Oriental at his 
worst." 

He was snapping the triggers of a breech-loader as 
he spoke. His eyes twinkled. 

" There's a 60 per cent, ad valorem duty on this, 
but I don't think it's going to be asked for, eh. Cap. ? " 

" Oh, no. It's your gun, and of course you take 
it ashore with you," the " Old Man " said solemnly. 
" The Doc's a good shot," he added parenthetically. 

" So. Well, if you'd care to come. Doc, we're going 
duck-shooting in Osaka Bay the day after to-morrow." 

" I'll come if you'll lend me the tools," I said em- 
phatically. 

" That'll be all right. We've got loads." 

" The most difficult bit of navigation in the Inland 
Sea is about midnight," said the " Old Man " at dinner. 
" We pass through the narrows then. It's about a cable 
length across. Like to be called. Doc ? " 

"Please," I said. 

So at " one bell " they called me. It was pitch-dark, 
so dark that even the water was barely visible. Away 
in front, a point on the starboard bow, a light glimmered 
low down, growing steadily larger and brighter as we 
approached. The water, formerly quiet, seemed now 
to have acquired a running sound, which grew momen- 
tarily more and more intense. One could feel that the 
ship was moving at tremendous speed in the unseen 

171 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

current. Sound echoed cavemously from the pre- 
cipitous cliffs that were narrowing around us, unseen 
in the darkness. 

Suddenly a hoarse order came from the bridge, and, 
with a swirl, the great ship half turned in her course, 
tYiXowing me bodily against the rail. 

Another light appeared. Again the order echoed in 
the cavernous night, again we canted, and now a third 
light flashed in evidence. Then came a slackening, the 
sound of waters died, the darkness grew less intense, 
and the faint glimmer of open water appeared. We 
were through. 

On the bridge the quartermaster struck " eight bells." 
Ere the brazen sound had died it was repeated from 
the fo'castle head. Then the voice of the " look-out " 
came clear and melancholy through the night : 

"A-a-ll's well. Lights burning brightly." 

A dim figure leant over the bridge rail. 

" You there. Doc. ? " 

" Yes." 

" Come up, and look at the chart." 



172 



CHAPTER VI 

KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO. GOOD-BYE TO JAPAN' 

Curio-dealers and the complete mystery of bargaining ex- 
plained : How " Sono-San " stopped our sight-seeing : The 
love-charm of Ponta : What happened at the " Yadoya " : 
The infatuation of the Second Mate : Concerning the English 
exiles and " God save the King " : The bell of the 
"Daibutsu" ; At sea again : Harpooning a whale : A dis- 
quisition on drunken pilots : The last night and the little 
geisha girls ; "Sayonara " 



CHAPTER VI 

In the morning we arrived at Kobe, one of the greatest 
of the Treaty Ports. 

A martello tower and a white quarantine ship 
marked the outer boundaries of the harbour. Here we 
were boarded by the doctors — two of them this time — 
and I noticed that the nearer we got to Yokohama the 
better-looking they were, and the better-fitting their 
uniforms. 

Once the yellow flag came down we made all speed 
to our anchorage, one of a line of big white buoys about 
a mile from the shore. One of our company's ships 
was just leaving harbour, and two others had the " Blue 
Peter " flying, indicating they were due to start within 
twenty-four hours. 

It was late in the afternoon before any of us could 
arrange to get ashore, but time did not hang heavily 
on our hands, as the curio-men were everywhere, spread- 
ing their wares all over the ship, and squatting with 
Oriental calm beside them ready to bargain with any 
one. They asked, of course, enormous prices at starting, 
prices such as one would have to pay in London, but 
evidently only as a method of commencing business. 
They expected to be offered one-sixth, and then the 
real bargaining began. 

At one's offer they would throw up their hands in 
impotent protest, and repeat their first price. At this 
point one shrugged one's shoulders and left. Then they 

175 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

would call one back, protesting at the absurdity of one's 
offer, smiling, or looking gravely hurt at the disparage- 
ment suggested by the would-be buyer's price. A fresh 
offer, twenty-five per cent, less, would be made, and to 
this one parried by again repeating the previous offer. 

With a sad look the curio-man now washed his hands 
of one. 

Half an hour later he would say, when one happened 
to come round his way, " How much you give ? " 

And then one began to increase one's offer. The 
stewards, quartermasters, and A.B.'s were bargaining 
off and on all day. They had little or no opportunity 
of getting ashore, and so all their purchasing had to 
be done on the ship. Most of the things they bought 
were resold to the Liverpool shops at a profit of 100 per 
cent., and a considerable part of their income was thus 
derived. Consequently they were experts at bargaining, 
sometimes taking two or three days haggling over some- 
thing special. The dealers knew them of course, and 
also the futility of attempting to overreach them. So 
they were able to make on the average much better 
bargains, for small things, than the officers, who had 
neither the time nor the patience for this interminable 
chaffering. 

The Second Steward said to me, " If you see any- 
thing you fancy, sir, tell me, and I'll get it for you 
a good deal cheaper than you can." 

In the afternoon the Chief and I, our pockets stuffed 
with rolls of paper money, hailed a sampan to take us 
to the hatoba. 

A cloud of " kurumayas " (** 'rick "-men) pounced on us 
as we landed. We picked out two, and told them to 
follow us till we wanted them. Then we strolled leisurely 
along the streets. 

Kobe, like every Japanese port, is the oddest mixture 
176 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

of periods. Mediaeval houses stand overshadowed by 
tall telegraph poles ; open-fronted shops with beautiful 
bronzes, china jars and vases, lacquers and enamels, 
stand next to glass-fronted shops filled with European 
rubbish of the 6|d. bazaar type ; bare-legged peasants 
clad in garments of rice straw rub shoulders with police- 
men dressed like gendarmes ; dainty little women 
garbed like butterflies, solemn robed Buddhist priests, 
ordinary citizens, bare-headed, kimono-clad, and men 
dressed in " complete-suit-one-guinea " European slops 
mingled in the kaleidoscopic crowd. 

There are two sights Europeans go to see in Kobe : 
one is the so-called Temple of the Moon (Tanjoji), 
and the other is the Nunobiki Falls. The temple 
is beyond the falls, further up the mountain, and 
the Chief suggested we should see them both that 
afternoon. 

So we mounted our 'rickishaws, and away our men 
rattled at a long swinging trot, past hotels, temples, over 
a railway line, through street after street of wooden 
houses one or two storeys high, till at last we came to 
the halting place, at the foot of the hills. 

Here we got out, 'rickishaws being no longer of any 
use, and started to climb. All the way, however, the 
Chief's athletic fervour had been evaporating. He was 
not at all so enthusiastic about the climb, when we were 
at the bottom of the hill, as he had been when proposing 
it, and he now suggested we should do the waterfall, 
and leave the temple till another day. 

Perhaps it was the natural cooling after ardour, 
perhaps the thought of the two hours' climb, that made 
him suggest the shorter journey only. Or perhaps it 
was the pretty face of " Sono-San," the little tea-house 
girl, standing bowing in the doorway of the " chaya " 
opposite, and saying with a quaintly piquant accent, 

M 177 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Peese come inside," that made him disinclined to 
move. 

At any rate he looked at her and then at me. 

*' Let's go in. We've lots of time," he said. " I feel 
thirsty." 

So it is not surprising that in a few minutes we found 
ourselves squatting on cushions, warming our hands 
over the charcoal " hibachi " (brazier), chatting with 
our hostess and the almond-eyed little lady who had 
first enticed us in, drinking the inevitable straw-coloured 
tea, and watching the dexterous way the little ladies 
handled their cigarettes, smiling at us with their slanting 
eyes the while. 

So much has been written about the Japanese woman 
that the subject is almost worn threadbare. She has 
been praised extravagantly, she has been as vehemently 
abused. She has been acted in opera, sung about in 
musical comedy, portrayed in every form of decorative 
art. One cannot get away from her — her presence is 
so all -pervasive in her own country. Every time one 
buys a fan or a piece of china she is there. Her 
presence sends a ray of sunshine into every street, 
her costume insistently catches the eye. It is impossible 
to avoid her. As a rule one doesn't try to, for the 
Japanese woman is the greatest thing in Japan. Her 
beauty is of a difference — it grows on one day by day, 
and the longer one stays in the country the more one 
admires it. Men who have lived there tell me that it 
slowly permeates till one wakes up suddenly to find 
some day that the high aquiline Caucasian type has 
become distasteful to one, when by chance one meets 
an unknown fellow-countrywoman in the streets of a 
Japanese cit}^. 

She is so dainty, so fine-lined, so small, so very gor- 
geous in her dress, so very artificial in her headgear 
178 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

bristling with pins, her smile is so ever-ready, her temper 
so equable, it is difficult to believe she can be really 
alive, could ever look cross, or be untidy. 

She is inimitable, the apotheosis of Japanese civilisa- 
tion. There is nothing in Europe at all like her. But 
there are rumours she is being spoiled by Western ideas, 
freed from the thraldom of " The Greater Learning for 
Women." It is stated that girls educated in the mis- 
sionary schools can be readily distinguished by their 
awkward gestures and want of graciousness from 
those trained under the old regime. If that be so, the 
schools have a lot to answer for. It has been whispered, 
with bated breath, that the " suffragette " has raised 
her head in Japan. Absit omen. What may suit 
Europe bears transplantation to Japan very badly. At 
present the Japanese woman is perfect. It seems an 
unnecessary risk to try to paint the lily. 

W^e climbed up to the lower waterfall in the cool 
of the afternoon. At the inevitable tea-house at 
the top the old lady who acted as hostess greeted the 
Chief as an old friend, and talked the queerest of slang 
English to him. One of the musumes sang an English 
song for our edification. Wonderful to relate, it was 
no less than " Ta-ra-ra-boom-de-ay," and sounded 
like a dim echo through the centuries. There was one 
of the tea-house girls particularly pretty, who after 
our arrival kept persistently in the background. When 
we had entered she had looked up quickly at us for 
a moment, and then returned to her occupation again. 
Apparently she was trying to tie knots in a strip of 
white paper with her thumb and little finger — a some- 
what difficult feat. The little musume looking after our 
particular wants saw my eyes following her, and 
pouted. 

" She no your girl. What for you look ? " 

179 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" I want to know what thing. What for she tie 
paper so ? " 

Hari laughed, and then explained : " You no savvy 
that. She belong sick. Have got Inglee-ish man lover 
no come." 

" What for he no come ? " 

" No savvy. His ship come. He no come." 

" What for she tie knot, so ? " 

Hari twirled her long taper fingers in imitation of the 
other, and laughed. 

" She tie knot so — bring lover back." 

Afterwards I had it all explained to me. It was 
a charm to bring back an absent lover. The knot tied 
in the prescribed way was taken to the shrine of the 
Love God, in the Temple of Kwannon, Goddess of the 
Unhappy, and placed before the image by the forlorn 
maiden. A prayer was then said, a small offering made, 
and the influence of the incantation patiently awaited. 
Should it be successful, the maiden then presented a 
gaudy picture, purporting to be that of the object of 
her affections, to the temple, and all was well. 

" I don't believe for a moment that any Japanese 
woman ever falls in love with a white man," said the 
Chief on the way down. " Our features seem hideous 
to them. These girls smile at us for the sake of trade, 
but they're really saving the money for some shock- 
headed, cadaverous little Jap round the corner, who is 
their ideal of manly beauty." 

" You think so ? " I said thoughtfully. 

" Sure of it," he answered. " Can you imagine an 
Englishwoman ever falling in love with a Jap ? You 
know you can't," he added triumphantly. " Well, 
then, reverse the picture." 

I had told him of the girl above, and I said, " So 

you think this girl " 

180 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

*' Tommy-rot," he answered positively. " Hari was 
bluffing you, and your head is full of ' The Geisha.' " 

Our " kurumayas " gave us a wide-grinned welcome 
when we got to the bottom again, and soon we were 
bowling along the little narrow streets once more. 
Turning a corner, we came on the following notice in 
English : " Satsuma factory. Visitors are respectably 
invited to inspecte the factory." We laughed, though we 
could not have made anything like as good a sentence 
in Japanese. 

A very obsequious proprietor took us round. He 
explained that the china itself was made in the province 
of Satsuma by a secret process known only there to a 
few, but it was painted in Kobe, Yokohama, &c., as 
they had better artists in those cities. That is largely 
true, but nevertheless the figures painted in Nagasaki 
and other southern ports, though not so perfect in outline, 
are much more grotesquely diabolical, and so appear 
more in keeping with the character of the china. 

We watched the process from the first outline in 
black, drawn with a fine brush made of rats' whiskers, 
to the completely finished picture. Each colour put 
on has to be baked separately, and so it requires some 
ten or twelve bakings to perfect the design. 

The work was wonderful to watch, marvellously, 
intricately minute, like everything else produced by 
these remarkable people. Most of the delicate tracery 
seemed to be done by boys from designs by one of the 
older men. A fine bowl was shown us by the guide- 
proprietor. It would have held about a pint of water, 
and was an intricate mass of fine gold and black lines. 
He gave me a magnifying-glass to hold over the bowl, 
and then I discovered the lines were in reality delicately 
drawn butterflies. There were twenty-two thousand on 
the bowl, he informed us, and every one of them fitted 

181 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

accurately in a mosaic so complete that not a pin-point 
of the underlying basis could, be seen. 

We found it difficult to tear ourselves away, but 
night was falling. Our men outside had each lit a 
coloured paper lantern, which was attached to his 
'rickishaw, and all the other " 'ricks " we passed were 
similarly illuminated. Pedestrians on foot had servants 
walking before them carrying lanterns on the end of 
long flexible bamboos ; all the shop fronts had rows 
of lanterns along the cornice ; and the entire effect was 
that of a " Fancy Fair." 

At the " Oriental Hotel," where we stopped for 
dinner, we seemed to have suddenly shifted back again 
15,000 miles to England ; for there a party of four, a 
typical English family, were sitting in evening dress, 
going quietly through the menu — a menu that might 
have graced any restaurant in the environs of Piccadilly 
Circus. The manager, too, to keep up the illusion, 
was a German. The only foreign note was the 
waiters. 

The menu card, I noticed, was printed with the dishes 
numbered 1 to 12, and I could not understand why 
till I heard a voice say, " Boj^ bring me No. 5," and 
then I understood. The waiters could not understand 
French, but they knew the numbers of the dishes in 
English. 

Most of these boys learn their English at the mis- 
sionary schools ; they attend these assiduously till they 
think they have learnt enough English to act as waiters ; 
then they promptly leave. 

It was black night, with only a few stars shining, 
when we left the hotel. A cold raw wind was blowing. 
We bundled hastily into our waiting 'rickishaws, and 
told the men to take us to the hatoba. 

Hailing a sampan, we got in. 
182 



KOSE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

" Don't say a word," said the Chief. "" They'll take 
us to our ship without our saying what it is." 

The two oarsmen stood up to the long sweeps, and 
pushed out into the darkness. A few faint lights, more 
than a mile awaj^ showed where the ships lay at anchor. 

" That's ours," I said quietly to the Chief. 

" Wrong," he said. " You let the sampan-men 
alone." 

I did after that, though I was quite certain we were 
going all out of our course. They ran us, straight as a 
dart, to the gangway. 

" Wonderful, aren't they ? " said the Chief. 



It was on the following evening, at the Club, that 
Captain Outram suggested to the " Old Man," after 
a game of billiards, that we should have a Japanese 
dinner. There was a man present w^ho lived " native " 
in the interior six months in the year. No one knew 
anything about him except that he was exceedingly 
quiet, always seemed to have plenty of money, and 
said he was a commercial traveller. He was popularly 
supposed to be an international spy. Certainly he 
could talk English, French, German, Russian, and 
Japanese with equal facility. The English ladies in 
Kobe looked askance at him — he had a Japanese wife, 
some people said several wives. 

For some reason or other he seemed inclined to talk 
to me, and when Captain Outram said, " Would you 
like to have a Japanese dinner. Doc. ? " he chimed in 
quietly, " Yes, do. It's an experience, Doc." 

" By Jove, the very thing. You're just the man we 
want, Thompson. You know all about these things. 
Will you come too ? " 

Thompson hesitated for just a fraction of a second, 

183 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and then said, " Thanks, captain ; I think I will. I 
know the very ' yadoya ' you want." 

We tailed o& in our 'rickishaws, after him, out into the 
night, till, turning up a narrow alley in a back street, 
he stopped at an open doorway. Into a narrow hall 
we trooped, to be greeted by a bowing, grey-kimonoed 
host. 

A little maid rapidly removed our boots, and we 
walked upstairs, on stockinged feet, to the usual 
Japanese room, devoid of furniture, the floor covered 
with the usual tatami matting. 

Cushions were brought, and we started to make 
ourselves comfortable. The " Old Man," however, was 
so stout that he could not get his legs under him com- 
fortably, so they brought a little table piled with 
cushions, and this he used as a chair. 

We left the ordering of the dinner to Thompson, 
and so he sent for, and had a long conversation with, 
the cook who was to serve us. 

Presently a maid brought in a " hibachi," filled with 
red-hot charcoal, and set it in the centre of the circle. 
A round table, about a foot high, with a square hole in 
the centre, was fitted over the " hibachi," and now the 
cook reappeared. She carried an affair like a frying- 
pan, greased with fat, and attendants brought her the 
raw materials for the feast, which she proceeded to 
cook in front of us. Huge bowls of rice with chop- 
sticks were placed at intervals around the table, opposite 
each of us. The rice formed the basis of the dinner, 
and course after course was added by the cook to act 
as a stimulus to eat more. The " Old Man " and I made 
very poor hands at manipulating the chop-sticks 
till Thompson showed us just how, and then we found it 
not so impossible to raise things to our lips. 

I had no idea what I was eating ; some of the things 
184 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

were cooked, others appeared to be made up of raw fish, 
everything was cut up very fine, most of it was decidedly 
savoury. I could see that Thompson was enjoying him- 
self immensely. 

In front of each of us was placed an ampulla of hot 
" sake," with little drinking cups, and a bowl of clear 
water. The taste for " sake " is said to be an acquired 
one. It is easily acquired. To me it tastes like whey 
with a suspicion of sherry in it. It is inclined to be 
rather heady. Thompson got through his supply 
rapidly, and fresh jars kept arriving for him — also for 
me. A particularly charming little attendant had been 
deputed to look after me {we each had one, our host, on 
account of his position, two), and she kept filling up 
my *' sake " cup whenever it showed any signs of 
emptying. I watched the face of Thompson, opposite 
me, grow larger and hazier, feeling more and more com- 
fortable ; bright lights flashed in front of my eyes at 
times, voices came somewhat muffled. It began to dawn 
on me that I was having too much " sake " ! 

Then there was an irruption. Three little painted 
women sidled into the room, each carrying a wooden 
box like a long plain gun-case. These were the 
geisha. They bowed to the floor, and said, " Komban- 
wa." Two of them produced samisens (Japanese 
guitars) from their cases, and squatted before us, 
Thompson smiled at the third, dipped his " sake " 
cup in the water-bowl, and presented it to the geisha. 
This is the recognised form of salutation to a favourite, 
like bouquets to a prima donna. The geisha raised it 
to her forehead, the waiting maid filled it with hot 
" sake," she put it to her lips, and then returned it to 
Thompson. 

After that she rose to her feet, and with a fan in her 
hand went through the celebrated " butterfly " dance, 

185 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

the other two accompanying her on their samisens, 
singing all the time in the peculiar high screechy note 
so characteristic of Oriental music. The dancing was 
all done with the body ; there was practically no move- 
ment of the feet. Her movements were wonderfully 
graceful ; one felt one ought to appreciate the marvellous 
skill more. 

Thompson's face was a study of delight. He had 
reached the stage in which to him it was exquisite. 
We others found it only interesting. When she had 
finished she dropped on her knees, and touched the 
matting with her forehead, before us. 

It was in the early morning when we finally separated, 
the " Old Man " and I to the hatoba, where a launch 
awaited us, the other two to their homes. As we left 
the doorstep in our 'rickishaws, the proprietor, the 
geisha, and the waiting maids, all assembled, bowed 
to us profusely, and the host called out the customary 
salutation to a departing guest, " Sayonara. Mata 
dozo irasshai." (Farewell ! So must we part ! Be 
pleased to come again.) 

Horner, the Second Mate, had been sticking to the 
ship very closely since we had arrived at Kobe. Once 
or twice I had idly wondered why. On our first excur- 
sion ashore the Chief had asked him to accompany 
us, but he had shuffled out of it, and we had not asked 
him since. As a companion he was very quiet. If 
any one had asked me I should have said he was not 
a man of much imagination, for he was very Saxon in 
his type, very steady, very reliable, an excellent officer. 
Sometimes in his watch below he would sit and talk to 
me, usually of his Devonshire home. His ideal was to 
make enough money to retire and keep a yacht near 
Plymouth. We were rather friends. 
186 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

On the morning of our fourth dajr in port he came 
into my cabin, looking somewhat embarrassed. We 
talked casually for some time about things of no import- 
ance, and I could see all the time he wanted to ask me 
something. I waited patiently, letting him work up to 
it. Finally he blurted out, " Going ashore to-day, 
Doc. ? " 

" Not till evening, I think. The ' Old Man ' and I 
are going with a party of Americans duck-shooting in 
Osaka Bay," I said. 

" What time will you be back ? " he said. " I want 
you to go ashore with me, Doc, rather badly." 

There was evidently something on his mind he wanted 
to tell me very much. I promised to go ashore with him 
after dark. 

" I don't want the Chief to know," he explained 
diffidently. 

I successfully concealed my surprise, and said, 
" That's all right, old chap. You and I will go ashore, 
and that's all about it." 

We got back before nightfall, the shooting launch, 
strung with dead duck, looking like a poultry shop. 
The Americans had arranged a big dinner and a geisha 
performance for the night. They pressed us to go. 
The " Old Man " was unable, owing to official business, 
as we were sailing on the morrow. I had more difficulty 
in framing a plausible excuse, but I, too, declined. The 
Second Engineer wanted me to go ashore with him. 
Again I had to invent difficulties ; so finally it was 
with a feeling like that of conspirators the Second 
Mate and I at length stole away together in a sampan 
in the dark. 

" Read that," said Horner, thrusting a note into my 
hand. 

By the dim light of the sampan lamp I made it out. 

187 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

It was a very artless, simple little note. At the time 
it made me feel choky. I wish now I had transcribed it, 
for I can only give it from memory. 

" I look see yom' ship come Kobe side five-six month. 
Two day your ship come — ^my heart is very glad. I 
think you come look see little Ponta. You no come. 
Red-faced man, your ship, come ' chaya ' (that was the 
Chief), thin man come (that was meant for me), you no 
come. ^Tiat for you no come ? My heart is very sad. 
I think you no love me any more." 

I handed it back to him in silence. 

" You saw her ? " he said. 

I nodded. 

There was a silence. Suddenly he blurted out, 

*' I'm a d d fool. I like her so much that it hurts 

like hell to have a note like that. I didn't know she 
cared so much. I swore I wouldn't go ashore this 
trip. I wanted to break it off. It's been going on 
every voyage now for the last fifteen months. Don't 
laugh, Doc." 

" I'm not laughing." 

" Sorry. I know you're not. I've got the jumps, 
Doc. It's getting worse every voyage. The first time 
it was all right. We were a week in Kobe, and I used 
to go up and see her every night. I thought she was a 
nice little thing. When we left I felt sort of lonely. 
I was on one of the Pacific boats that trip. V/e were 
back from Vancouver about six weeks later, and we 
stopped a night here. I thought I'd toddle up and see 
her. She was frightfully glad to see me, and I felt 
flattered. You know what these girls are. I thought 
it was rather a score for me, her remembering. Well, 
I didn't see her again for four months. I had been 
shifted to another ship, and the Second Engineer was 
shifted too. The first night here I couldn't get ashore. 
188 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOYKO 

The Second went, and she recognised him. She in- 
quired for me. I was pretty badly in love with her 
by now, and I felt — oh, you know, just how, when 
he told me she had been asking about me. I was funky 
of her forgetting now. There was a fat German making 
eyes at her, the Second said, and of course she had to be 
civil to him. I wanted to punch that German. That 
was the voyage before last. I'm getting worse every 
time. I can't get her out of my head now. I've 
thought of asking the company to give me a shore 
billet here, and then buying her off the beastly old 
ruffian, Ogawa, who employs her. It makes me sick 
to think of her there, with every dirty American tourist 
or bloated German making love to her, and her having 
to put up with it. She wants me to buy her. You 
think I'm a d d fool, don't you ? " 

" How much could you buy out her indentures for ? ' 
I asked, evading the question. 

" She told me the old devil paid her father 200 yen 
for a three years' agreement. I could get her for 300." 

This was serious. It was evident he had been making 
careful inquiries. 

" I'm absolutely miserable about it," he added 
dismally. 

Of course he hadn't got the money. A sailor never 
has any money, and even if he had had, and bought her, 
it would have meant exile in a foreign land and the end 
of his career to have settled down with her. He was 
on the " roster " for promotion to First Mate. In 
ten years' time he might be looking forward to a 
captaincy. The thing from the standpoint of the 
world was ridiculous. But I was not the world, and 
had no intention of playing the part of Mr. Worldly 
Wiseman. 

At the foot of the hills we got out. 

189 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

"The waterfall place is shut at night," he said. 
" She'll be in the ' Lotus-Leaf ' now." 

The house was dark, the " amado " closed when we 
arrived, but a number of 'rickishaws round the dim-lit 
door and the tinkle of the samisen within told that 
something was going on. 

Ogawa, the proprietor, a little wizened ruffian in a 
grey kimono, received us obsequiously, but at our 
request shook his head regretfully. 

" No. The most beautiful Ponta could not be seen. 
She was entertaining four honourable gentlemen with 
the music." 

He said it with a cunning smile, watching us all the 
time. 

He knew Horner, of course, and probably was afraid 
he might attempt to pay her father's debts, and so take 
her away from the tea-house. 

At the same time he wanted to have any money we 
were spending, and so did not wish to turn us from his 
door. Moreover, if he made difficulties, and we were 
not content with other entertainers, he probably 
thought that a little difficulty would make us offer a 
better price for the music. 

" I must see her," said Horner, " Tell the honour- 
able four to clear out." 

Ogawa was pathetically helpless in his gestures. 
The honourable four had specially asked for the most 
beautiful Ponta. How could he offend his most honour- 
able guests ? 

Horner was inarticulate with rage. I watched the 
man shrewdl}^ and thought he was lying, so I nudged 
Horner to be quiet, and explained that we were very 
sorry. We had hoped to spend the evening in his 
honourable house, we had wanted two beautiful maidens 
with samisens to entertain us, but — ^well, we sailed 
190 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

in the morning, and must go elsewhere for our last 
evening. 

Horner made a movement forward. I held him back. 

" It's all right, man; he's bluffing for more money," 
I said in a quick aside. 

Ogawa suggested then that perhaps the honourable 
gentlemen might care to see some of the others. There 
were several of the most beautiful 

I turned away resolutely, catching Horner by the 
arm. We walked a yard or two. 

" I can't. Doc," said Horner miserably; " I feel that 
I want to wring the old ruffian's neck. I must go back, 
I must see her." 

I began to fear he was getting out of hand, but just 
then the little man came running after us. The honour- 
able four, it seemed, had just asked for their bill, they 
would be going soon, and if the honourable gentlemen 
would deign to wait a little in his miserable house 

We had not long to wait. A little maid brought in 
the glowing hibachi and a pile of cushions. We 
squatted, warming our hands over the charcoal flame, 
each lighting a cigarette. Horner was irritable with 
suspense. The tinkle of the samisen still came to us 
through the thin paper partition. Then a shutter 
moved, and she came listlessly in, followed by another, 
whom I recognised as Hari, carrying a samisen. 

In a moment she uttered a queer little gulping cry, 
her little Avhite tabi flashed across the matting, there was 
an iridescent flash of garments, and she was in his arms. 
I turned my head away and stared at Hari, who was 
watching with eager eyes. I could hear him mur- 
muring " Sweetheart — sweetheart — sweetheart," and 
her sobbing quietly, and murmuring softly inarticulate 
words of endearment in response. 

I kept staring still at Hari. 

191 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Presently a voice said, half confusedly, " Sorry, Doc. 
You can look round now, if you like. She won't 
mind." 

Hari smiled at me. 

" You give me cigarette ? " she said coaxingly, and 
the tension was over. 

Soon three of us were squatting on our cushions 
around the hibachi ; the fourth was Horner, and he lay 
at full length on the matting, looking up into Ponta's 
face, his head resting on her knees. We talked — how 
we talked. They laughed — how they laughed. Hari 
played the samisen and sang. Ponta smiled down 
on him, and rumpled his hair tenderly with her fingers. 
It was very fine, golden, and curly — a constant wonder 
to her. It dawned on me for the first time that Horner 
was very good-looking. Half an hour before I had 
thought him a fool. Now I found myself beginning to 
envy him. 

" Why the deuce don't you make love to Hari ? " he 
said contentedly. 

" She say she likee you ver-much," said Ponta 
encouragingly. 

They brought us rice and chicken in bowls, with 
chop-sticks. The two little women shrieked with 
laughter at our attempts to use the sticks. They 
brought us hot " sake " in little silver ampullae, and 
we exchanged cups of ceremony. I could feel a gentle 
languor stealing over me. With very little persuasion 
I should have fallen asleep, and it was therefore with 
an effort I looked at my watch. It was past midnight. 

" We'd better be going," I said. 

Ponta looked up quickly ; then she pressed his head 
more down on her lap without a word. 
>p-^ " We're going to stop the night," he said. Then 
192 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

more quickly added, " I can't go, old chap. Oh, 
d — n. Don't leave me." 

" We sail at nine o'clock," I reminded him, feeling like 
a brute. 

" I don't want to think of it. Stay with me, like a 
good fellow. We'll clear out at six. I may never see 
her again." 

Of course it was all wrong. We were only putting 
off the evil hour. I knew it would be just as bad in the 
morning, and I said so. The more I talked the more 
obstinate he became, and all the while her fingers 
played with his hair. She never said a word. The 
Japanese woman is trained to conceal her emotions. 
I knew all the time it was useless arguing with him. 
I only did it because I felt I must. I knew also that 
I dare not leave him alone in the state of mind he was 
in at the moment, and so I agreed at last to stay the 
night with him, if the " yadoya " could accommodate 
us, feeling that if I left him he would probably fail 
to rejoin the ship at all. The proprietor was called, 
and said we could have a room. That settled it. 

They brought us each a big kimono, some rugs, and 
a little wooden Japanese pillow. That was our bed- 
room furniture. We discarded the pillows, and sub- 
stituted two or three cushions. With these we knew 
we would be quite comfortable, sleeping on the tatami 
matting. Six months previously I could not possibly 
have slept thus, but a period of nights on deck during 
the hot weather in the Indian Ocean had taught me how 
to be comfortable without a mattress. Hari promised 
to call us at five-thirty, and soon I was half asleep ; 
but in my somnolent state I could still hear the quiet, 
insistent talking of the Mate in the room I had left and 
when I finally fell asleep his couch w^as still unoccupied. 

N 193 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

It was a very cross Second Mate who gave directions 
aft when we were moving out from Kobe in the morning, 
Yokohama bound. The A.B.'s could not make out 
what had come over his usually sunny temper. 

" I'm sick of life," he said to me, in passing. I could 
only look sympathetic. 

A sister ship of ours, the Dardanus, flying the " Nippon 
Yusen Kaisha " flag, on commission, was due to sail an 
hour after us. She was a faster boat than ours, and as 
we steamed past her they chaffed us from the deck, 
wanting to know if we had any messages for Yokohama. 
Nothing annoys a sailor more than that, and we re- 
torted to the best of our ability. I am certain, there- 
fore, that the " Old Man " and the Chief pushed the ship 
a bit, for it was some hours later before we sighted her 
smoke astern. 

Do what we could, however, she was rapidly over- 
hauling us, until, quite imexpectedly. Nature came to our 
relief. We were in the narrows, just before leaving the 
Inland Sea to shoot out into the Pacific, when suddenly, 
without any warning, we ran into a fog bank. Then 
the hooter went furiously, and we could hear the 
answering hoot of the Dardanus astern. 

We circled in the fog for perhaps a quarter of an hour, 
till suddenly again it lifted, and we saw the lighthouse on 
the port quarter. The "Old Man" knew then exactly 
where we were, full steam ahead was ordered, and we 
shot out into the Pacific. 

But the Dardanus was not so lucky. She lay 
enveloped for hours, and consequently was still ten 
miles astern late that same evening. It was, there- 
fore, not till well on in the night that she passed us 
far out to starboard. 

The coast was very indistinct as we steamed along 
it in the early morning. The volcano on Vries Island 
194 




A COliXEK OF Till-: TKMIT,!-; AT i^HIBA, TOKYO (Sec p. 2tiO) 




l':!U -T' " 'i'HE SHI15A TKMl'LK, TOKYO (Srep. 2tiO) 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

was not visible, and sacred Fujiyama, the most beauti- 
ful mountain in Japan, lay enveloped in mists out of 
sight. 

As we approached Yokohama we saw the Dardanus 
lying at anchor, to pass the quarantine, and so she got 
in barely an hour in front of us. 

Yokohama harbour is one of the finest in the Far 
East. There is a huge breakwater, outside of which 
lie those lepers of the sea the " oil-ships," and inside 
a multitude of ships of every nation. No one is allowed 
to smoke on board the oil-ships, and they are never 
admitted near other shipping. Only the week before 
there had been an accident. A lighter had had its 
tanks filled with petroleum from one of them, and was 
sailing into harbour, when the wife of the " sendo " 
(Japanese captain of the lighter) dropped a lighted 
match in her little cabin aft. The explosion that 
followed blew lighter and crew into eternity. Luckily 
it happened outside the breakwater. 

We were all looking forward to our letters from home, 
as we had missed them at Kobe, and so it was with 
much disappointment we found that all our mails had 
been lost in the wreck of the Dakota, the huge American 
mail-boat that had run ashore two days previously. 
The Chief talked as if it had been done especially to 
spite him. As it was, he was the only one to receive 
anything. It was an empty delicately scented, mauve- 
coloured envelope, posted in London, and written in an 
unknown female hand. To this day he has never been 
able to discover whom it was from. We said it was a 
romance nipped in the bud. He asserted it was pro- 
bably a bill. The Chief is a confirmed bachelor. 

The usual inundation of curio-dealers followed our 
anchoring, but in addition a number of 'rickishaw men 
boarded the ship and presented their cards. The 

195 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

advent of trams in Yokohama has cut seriously into 
their earnings, and there is a great struggle between 
them, therefore, for custom. As with cabmen at home, 
there is a regular tariff, but, like the London cabby, they 
try to get as much more as possible, and many are 
the wrangles one has, if one objects to extortion. 

I hired a man by the day, paid him 1 yen 50 sen 
(three shillings), and had him waiting at the hatoba 
whenever I wanted him. Any day I M^as not ashore 
I paid him just the same, and I found the system excel- 
lent and the man absolutely reliable. He was always 
there, no matter what time I wanted him, night or day. 

The Mate had been instructed by his wife to buy her 
enough silk to make a dress. The colour she said was 
to be heliotrope, and he was very much afraid he'd 
get the wrong shade. Accordingly he got the Chief 
and myself to fortify him in his search, and we all 
went together to one of the big silk shops, so that by 
our combined wisdom we might lessen the chance of 
error. 

Before we could even state what we wanted we were 
served with tea. This, it appeared, was the custom of 
the house. Afterwards they were all attention to our 
needs. It was with regret that we found we could not 
get what we wanted. We were bowed out as politely 
as if we had bought the complete stock. In the Benton- 
Dori we found what, after much vacillation, appeared to 
be the thing. It turned out afterwards that our " com- 
bined wisdom " had been completely wrong. The 
mate's wife refused to wear the stuff. She was " that 
kind of a woman," the Chief said ; but I have an un- 
easy suspicion she may have been right. 

After the exertion of choosing the silk we wandered 
at our ease amongst the curio-stores. The place was 
inundated with American tourists, careering all over 
196 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

the city in 'rickishaws, gesticulating, shouting out "Ohio" 
(" Ohayo " is the Japanese for " Good-day "), behaving 
with a rude vulgarity exceedingly distasteful, talking, 
boasting, making loud remarks, mostly disparaging, 
on every one and everything, regardless of the fact 
that nearly all the shopkeepers understood English. 
They were mostly passengers from the wreck of the 
Dakota. We were pleased to see that they were being 
charged three prices for everything, the polite Japs 
thus taking their revenge. 

It is difficult to explain why tourists of every country, 
including our own, show their worst side abroad. It 
is indefensible anywhere. In Japan, where even the 
coolie is a gentleman, it is unpardonable. 

Every one who has ever been in Yokohama talks 
about the " Bluffs " and " Mississippi Bay." It is the 
European quarter of Yokohama, and here one finds the 
" exiles," the people who have taught the Japanese 
the modern way, and who are now being discarded 
by their precocious pupils, to their no small discomfort 
and annoyance. They talk of ingratitude, sharp 
practices, cheeseparing economies ; abuse the country, 
the climate, the morals, arts, everything except the 
courage of the people. 

The houses of these exiles strike the very latest note 
in early Victorian furniture, probably because most of 
the stuff has been made in Japan from faulty European 
models, for the European furniture made in Japan is 
unspeakably bad, just as the European architecture of 
the Government buildings is of the poorest " work- 
house " pattern. 

The houses on the Bluffs are very jerry-built. 
There is nearly always a pathetic attempt to have 
everything about them as ultra-English, as little 

197 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Japanese, as possible — English flowers and fruits in the 
garden, English pictures on the walls, heavy English 
china ornaments on the mantel-shelves, even Britannia 
metal teapots. 

It is easy to laugh at it all, but six months' residence 
brings understanding, for the people — the only people 
— who appreciate England are those who have had to 
live out of it. There are no Little Englanders amongst 
her sons abroad. 

It was St. Patrick's Night, and they were giving an 
Irish concert at the Bluffs. The concert-hall might 
have been the school-room of the parish church in any 
village in the Midlands — a little oblong building, with 
rows of hard American pitch-pine seats, and a raised 
platform at one end, on which stood a harmonium. 

The dresses of the ladies .were just enough behind the 
fashion to strengthen the impression of the country 
village. 

They played duets ; they sang, mostly from Moore's 
Irish Melodies, as it was an Irish concert. None of 
them sang very well, but it was very pleasant. One 
young fellow recited. He was the funny man. The 
medical missionary's daughter said to me, " You will 
enjoy him. He's just too killing." 

He thought so, too, himself. They all liked him. 
They laughed uproariously at his jokes, jokes with 
whiskers on them, and screamed at his comic recitations 
— recitations of the " Bell's Elocutionist " type. They 
thought he was immense. I laughed with the rest, 
not wishing to appear blase or uninterested. They had 
been kind enough to send me a special invitation when 
they heard I was an Irishman. To me the whole per- 
formance was very pathetic. 

Then the end came. Every one stood up, the men 
threw back their shoulders, the women drew themselves 
198 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

erect, every cheek was flushed, every eye glistened. 
They were singing " God save the King." 

It was not two hurried bars by a foreign orchestra 
whilst every one is scurrying to get on their wraps 
and out before the crush. No. They stood up to it 
and sang it — sang it as if they meant it. One has to go 
outside England to hear " God save the King " sung 
properly. 

Then they separated, and the light outside, shining 
on the yellow faces of the 'rickishaw men, reminded 
thern of vfhat, for the time being, they had forgotten 
— that they were 15,000 miles from home. 

Every day we were in Yokohama was to be our last. 
We were being sent to Saigon, we were going to Manila, 
we were positively being sent to Shanghai. It was a 
different tale with the " Old Man " every morning at 
breakfast. The Mate snorted, " We're going to Java, 
Doc. You see if I'm not right." 

I wanted to go up country to Nikko, to see what are 
probably the most wonderfully beautiful temples in 
the world. But we were under orders for twenty- 
four hours' notice, and I could not go. I haunted 
temples, went to see the great bronze Buddha at 
Kamakura, planned to go to the hot baths of Myanos- 
hita. One morning the surgeon of the Dardanus and 
I decided to go to Tokyo. At the railway station all the 
clerks in the booking offices T\'^ere girls, most of whom 
spoke excellent English. There was a restaurant, with 
an excellent menu, which w^e sampled. The menu- 
card was printed in Japanese and English. The railway 
carriages were of the corridor type, like those of the 
Underground in London. We ran smoothly across 
the great plain of Tokyo, through a country which was 
a mass of cherry-blossom. 

199 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

At the Shimbashi station in Tokyo we went to the 
jinrickisha office, paid a fee, and so hired a 'rickishaw 
man each for the day. Had we known it there were 
electric cars all through the city. In spite of that, 
however, Tokyo is still very Japanese. It is an immense 
city of some million of inhabitants, and when once one 
gets out of the great main streets one sees that it is 
as Japanese as Shimonoseki. 

We lunched at the " Imperial," the most magnificent 
hotel in the Far East. A party of very smart Japanese 
officers of the Imperial Guard, in full-dress uniform, 
were lunching in the restaurant, and were a source 
of much interest to the American tourists, who were 
flooding the place. 

After lunch we started doing temples. One gets 
rather too many temples in Japan. Many of them are 
little more than glorified huts, but the temples in 
Shiba, containing the graves of six of the Tokugawa 
Shoguns, with their w^onderful gold lacquer, and the 
imposing rows of votive lanterns, should be missed 
by no one who wishes to see what Japanese art at its 
very best can do. There is an air of solemn grandeur 
and immemorial calm about them that wraps one 
round as with a mantle while the guide walks reverently 
from tomb to tomb, talking of the bygone splendours 
of the Tycoon Emperors. Instinctively one's voice 
lowers in the presence of the mighty dead, and, like 
Agag, one treads delicately around the dust of these 
buried Csesars. 

The same feeling follows one when one is viewing 
what the public is permitted to see of the Imperial 
Palace. The priest-like seclusion of the Mikado is 
a thing of the past, but the tradition of the Son of 
Heaven is difficult to eradicate, and old-fashioned 
Japanese still reluctantly regret the presence of his statue 
200 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

exposed to the gaze of every passer-by in the Imperial 
Museum, considering it as a sacrilege almost that any 
one should be permitted to look even on the counterfeit 
representation of the Emperor. 

But that this is a thing of the past nothing could give 
more eloquent testimony than the first sight we saw 
after leaving the palace. It was some thirty Russian 
cannon captured in the war, and arranged in one of the 
public parks, opposite the War Oihce, an ugly red- 
brick building, looking like a block of artisans' flats. 

At a tea-house, the " Soyoken," run on European 
lines, we were much interested in watching a number of 
Japanese students, under the guidance of an elderly 
man, sitting on chairs and trying to handle spoons, 
knives, and forks in European style, solemnly watching 
and imitating their leader all the while, like a gymnasium 
class following the movements of the instructor. 

It must have been extremely uncomfortable for them, 
but they went through it solemnly as a duty. It was 
a part of their education, for the secret of their mar- 
vellous success is that they study even the minutest 
details. We caught them surreptitiously watching us. 
My companion inadvertently started balancing his 
spoon on the edge of his cup, and we smiled furtively 
when we saw four of them imitate him. But, all the 
same, the thing impressed us. These were the men 
of the New Japan, and they were being trained to hold 
their own with ease amongst Europeans. 

Outside, in a little grove not far off, was a bronze 
statue of the Great Buddha ("Daibutsu"), and close to the 
statue a huge bronze bell, with an intensely sweet, low 
note. Once or twice the bell boomed softly as we sat 
at ease. Finally we moved over to have a look. A 
little old withered woman had just arrived before the 
bell, which was swung so that its base hung about three 

201 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

feet above the ground. The bell itself was about 
fifteen feet high, and six or seven feet in diameter 
at the mouth. Instead of a metal clapper it had a 
bamboo pole, with a drumstick head at one end, hanging 
suspended by the middle. The old M^oman seized the 
pole and swung it against the side of the bell, once, 
twice, thrice, and again we heard the low, sweet sound 
ring out softly in the still afternoon air. Then slowly 
she turned to the face of the inscrutable Buddha, and, 
dropping on her knees, offered up a praj'^er. That was 
the Old Japan, the Japan of the Samurai and the 
"Forty-seven Ronins," whose tombs we had been 
gazing at in the morning. It was a charming Old Japan, 
hopelessly picturesque, impossible to sustain. The 
marvel is that it lasted as long as it did. We felt 
privileged to have seen even a little of the last of it. 

The next day we got our final orders. We were 
going to Java. The Mate had been right after all, 
and this was to be our last day in Yokohama. 

" Have you ever seen massage after the Japanese 
manner ? " said the Chief. I confessed I had not. 

"It's as good as a Turkish bath," he said enthusias- 
tically. " I tell you what. Doc. We'll walk over the 
Bluffs to Honmoku, through the rice-fields, go to 
a tea-house I know, and have the old blind masseur in." 

It was a beautiful spring afternoon, and we were in 
a pleasant glow when at length we reached the little 
village by the sea. The tea-houses were on the 
sea-shore, and little landing-stages ran out from them 
into the water, so that one could walk straight off the 
balcony and plunge into the Pacific. It was too early 
in the year, however, for bathing, and so after a smoke, 
and the inevitable tea, we surrendered ourselves to the 
masseurs. All masseurs in Japan are blind men, as 
202 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

their hands are wonderfully supple, on account of their 
greater delicacy of touch. In Europe massage is always 
done in the direction of the venous flow, but, as one might 
expect, in Japan they do the exact reverse. I am 
puzzled to this day to know which is right. At any 
rate, when we got out of the masseur's hands we both 
had a feeling of intense exhilaration, so much so that 
we decided to walk the whole way back. 

It was dark and the way was winding, a mere track 
amongst the " paddy-fields." We wandered off into 
a bamboo grove, and wandered out again ; dogs barked 
at us in the night. We still pushed on. The rice-fields 
on either side were bare of vegetation, the path was a 
mere track in the darkness, not a soul passed, not a sign 
of habitation was anywhere. 

At last we saw a light in the distance, far off to the 
left, and stumbling across found that we had left the 
path completely. Except for the light in one corner 
the house was in total darkness. Stumbling over the 
threshold of the verandah, my foot struck something 
soft, and I should have fallen had not an arm thrown 
up from below steadied me. It was the body of a man 
sleeping out in the verandah I had almost fallen over. 
Without a word he rose, threw open a door, and we 
found we had run across one of the smaller " yadoyas " 
frequented by the poorer merchant class. 

We were very tired and hungry, they had no European 
food, there was only one steel fork, and one pewter 
spoon in the house, but nevertheless we managed to 
make a very satisfactory meal from rice and hard- 
boiled eggs, the Chief using the spoon and I the fork. 

Afterwards the proprietor put us on the right track 
again, and with a polite " Sayonara " bade us farewell. 

" There's one thing about Japan," said the Chief. 
" It's the safest country in the world to get lost in. 

203 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Everybody helps one. I've never heard of even a 
drunken man being robbed." 

We tramped on steadily in the night. Chayas and 
lights were now quite frequent, and soon we saw the 
dim outline of a wall and the gateway of a house. 

" We've got to the Bluffs at last," said the Chief 
with a grunt of satisfaction. 

The tinkle of a 'rickishaw bell came to us in the 
night. Then one kurumaya appeared from round the 
corner with the lantern of his 'rickishaw lit, and he was 
quickly followed by another. We each got into one 
and called out " Hatoba." Then the men started. 

Going down from the Bluffs to the Bund there is 
a very long, steep hill. 

" Hold tight," shouted the Chief from the 'rickishaw 
in front. Our men had started slowly, but gradually 
they gained momentum, and soon we were flying down 
the incline at breakneck pace. Their feet seemed 
barely to touch the ground. I felt as though my last 
hour had come. Suddenly we came to a sharp turn, 
and the men swerved quickly, leaping sideways in the 
air, swinging the light cars round by their weight. Down 
they came on their feet again, and continued their 
breakneck run. It was like bob-sleighing without the 
snow. A feeling of exhilaration came over us ; uncon- 
sciously I found m^'self shouting encouragement. Down 
we swept, past 'rickishaws painfully crawling up the 
hill, past brightly lighted shops, past hurrying pedes- 
trians, till at last, panting and exhausted, the men slowed 
up on the crowded level highway of the Bund. 

When we got back to the ship all was confusion. 
We sailed for Soerabaya, in Java, on the morrow, and 
some of the cargo was not yet in. A huge arc light 
hung over the ship, and the winches were working 
furiously ; but as I had nothing to do with cargo I 
204 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

turned in, and in spite of the thunderous noises soon 
was fast asleep. 

Some time in the early morning, however, they 
finished, and then the stillness woke me up. 

It was a beautiful clear day when we said farewell ; 
and the beloved Fujiyama shone inland like a great 
pink down-turned fan, rosy in the dawn, a picture of 
absolute loveliness, as we steamed out slowly through 
the breakwater, past the forts and the four great 
Japanese cruisers, dipping their flags ceremoniously to 
us as we crossed their beam. 

That night before turning in I was going to put some, 
plates in my camera, but laziness suggested there would 
be nothing to photograph till we got into the Inland 
Sea again. Next morning I repented bitterly. The 
steward wakened me at seven bells (7.20 a.m.). It 
was a bright clear morning, and I turned round luxuri- 
ously for another short snooze before getting up. I was 
just dropping off again when a voice came down my 
ventilator, " Doc. ! Get up quick ! There's a whale 
harpooned in sight ! " 

I was up like a flash, instinctively seizing the camera, 
only then to remember with a pang it was unloaded. 
Everybody was on deck with glasses. 

" She's gone down," said the Mate. 

" She'll be up again in a minute," said the Chief. 

What I saw was a small Japanese steam trawler, 
which we were rapidly overhauling, on the port bow. 
A man stood sharply silhouetted on her fo'castle head, 
and a harpoon line stretched from him for about three 
hundred yards into the water in front. All steam had 
been shut oE from the trawler ; the whale had dived and 
was hauling her along in her course. When we were 
almost abeam there was a ripple in the water in front, 

205 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and then a cloud of vapour rose for about six feet above 
the sea. It was not the stream of water depicted in the 
books, merely a cloud of vapour, and it was the whale 
blowing. Then a broad brown back, like an arc of a 
great circle, appeared for a moment, only to disappear 
again, but not before we heard a sharp report, and 
knew that the man on the fo'castle head had fired 
another explosive bullet from his harpoon gun into 
the quivering mass. This second dive was a short one. 
Probably the shot had hit a vital part. The water 
close to the trawler became tinged with blood, and 
the great mass came slowly up to the surface like an 
overturned ship. By this time we had passed the 
trawler, and soon we had left her far behind, a mere 
speck on the ocean. No one on board, not even the 
" Old Man," had ever seen such a sight before. I was 
bitterly sorry my slackness had prevented my photo- 
graphing it, and as the next best thing I asked the 
Mate to let me have the bearings of the scene from the 
official log. Here they are : 

" 33° 27' N. 

" 135° 36' E. Off Edsu Saki in the Kii Channel, 
West from Siwo Misaki light, eight miles." 
• « * • • 

We were going back through the Inland Sea to coal 
at Moji, and were due at Kobe about four o'clock that 
afternoon. All the time we had been in Yokohama we 
had had some twenty-five coolies from Kobe on board 
painting and caulking the ship. The decks had all 
been caulked, the holds painted red and the outside 
of the ship black, so we were now very spick-and-span 
for Java. The coolies were to be landed at Kobe again, 
and we were stopping for that and to pick up the pilot. 
Horner looked at me at " tiffin," and I knew his 
thought. 
206 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

" Any chance of our stopping the night ? " I said. 

" Not an earthly," he answered gloomily. 

We passed the spot where we had been caught in the 
fog, on the way up to Yokohama, about one o'clock. 
It was one of the exits from the Inland Sea. There 
were forts on either side, and just room to circle a ship 
comfortably clear of the reefs. It was a nasty spot. 

The " Old Man " was expecting Captain Outram's 
wife and two daughters to travel with us as far as 
Shimonoseki, while the captain was piloting the ship 
through the Inland Sea ; so when we reached our 
moorings at Kobe we signalled for them to come aboard. 
The coolies hastily gathered their gear, and loaded 
themselves into two leaky sampans. A high sea was 
running, and the sampans were weighed down almost 
to the gunwale. It looked a risky journey for them, 
but they took it quite cheerfully, fastening the bamboo 
scaffolding they had used in their work around the 
boats to act as floats. In the " roads " we saw one of 
our ships, and another was just coming into harbour 
outward bound. The quarantine boat came running 
out towards us, but on our signalling that we were only 
landing coolies and waiting for the pilot, they sheered 
off again. 

The " Old Man " paced restlessly about the bridge. 

" Outram's a long time coming. I hope nothing's 
wrong," he said. 

" The pilot boat's putting out from the hatoba, 
sir," said Horner. 

The " Old Man " swung his glasses on the approaching 
boat, and presently he swore. It was obvious the pilot 
was not Captain Outram, and no ladies were with him. 
Instead we got a bibulous-looking, very pleasant gentle- 
man, and I could see from the " Old Man's " looks 
he had absolutely no confidence in him. 

207 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

At dinner he had more whisky than was good for him, 
and I saw the " Old Man " watching him with gloomy- 
eyes. From the chart -room afterwards he sent for 
more whisky. Then the " Old Man " came to me. 

" Look here. Doc. ! I don't trust this chap a bit ! 
I'm darned if I'll let him run my ship ashore in the 
narrows ! I want you to go up and see him, and tell 
me if you think it's wise to let him have any more 
whisky. If you think he's not fit now, I'll take her 
through myself." 

Accordingly I went up and found him half asleep. 
He was very charming when I commenced talking to 
him, but he was soon in a very different frame of mind 
when I told him I must stop his allowance if he wished 
to take the ship through. He swore he had never 
heard of such a thing being done in all the years of 
his pilotage, said he had taken hundreds of ships 
through, including C.P.R.'s and P. & O.'s, and told 
me I was acting entirely without precedent. I told 
him I had no admiration for precedents, but a very 
great one for the company I represented. Then the 
" Old Man " came up, chimed in, and told him brusquely 
he could get as drunk as a fiddler once we were through 
the narrows ; but, curiously enough, this annoyed 
him more than anything I had said. He became very 
dignified all at once, issued his orders with military 
precision to the quartermaster, and made me feel I had 
no locus standi on the bridge. The trouble was he was 
undoubtedly a gentleman, and I felt sorry we had had 
to touch him on the raw as we did. He probably knew 
his weakness as well as, or better than, we did, and was 
consequently all the more sensitive on the point. 

Nothing happened, however. The " Old Man " spent 
the whole night on the bridge along with him, ready 
to take the ordering out of his hands if necessary. We 
208 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

got safely to Moji on the following afternoon, and he 
departed, shaking the dust of the ship from off his feet, 
still sore at our lack of confidence. 

The " Old Man " saw him off in grim silence, and 
then delivered himself to me on the whole duty of a 
sailor thus : 

" A man undertaking any responsibility has no right 
to drink when he's on duty," he said sententiously. 
" I don't care a tinker's curse what he does off ; but 
while he's on, ' Ship-shape and Bristol fashion ' — ^that's 
my style." 

We started coaling immediately, for the orders were 
to make all speed for Java ; and so, we soon had a 
repetition of the pandemonium of the previous occasion, 
the same staircase of bamboo scaffolding from the 
lighters to the ship, the same grimy coolies slinging 
their oval baskets, the same repulsive women, with 
babies on their backs, tipping the baskets into the 
bunkers. 

Darkness came, but the work went on unceasingly ; 
huge flares lit the barges, and half illuminated the grimy 
yellow, semi-nude bodies of the sweating coolies. 

There was no escape from the continual din ; the 
atmosphere was impregnated with coal-dust ; and 
lighters were lying three deep on both sides of the ship, 
creaking and groaning as they bumped against one 
another in the strong tide in the semi-darkness. I 
wanted to go ashore out of it all, but none of the officers 
could come. The tide was running strongly towards 
Shimonoseki, and it would be very difficult to get back. 
Besides, there were no sampans about. Still, after dinner 
I made up my mind to attempt it, though dolefully 
dissuaded by the " Old Man " ; and so I climbed 
perilously down the scaffolding on to one of the lighters, 

o 209 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

crossed over the others in the half darkness, and shouted 
for a sampan. 

There was only one; it was an open boat, manned 
by a boy, and he was disinclined to take me, as he 
belonged to Moji, and the tide running towards 
Shimonoseki would give him a heavy pull against it 
when he turned for home. 

The magic of a dollar persuaded him, however, and 
we were soon racing, almost without an effort, in the 
fierce current running towards the Shimonoseki shore. 

In a few minutes the din of the ship subsided. It 
was a clear, cloudless night. The stars glittered multi- 
tudinous on the dimpling waters. We passed some 
tree-clad islands in the half gloom, and soon were 
in the main channel. The lights of Moji under the 
beetling hills subsided to pin-points, and those of Shimo- 
noseki began to shine in rippling streaks across the 
water. We passed close under the bows of a German 
coaling, and the sound of music floated to us from the 
lighted fo'castle. Some one was singing " Der Wacht am 
Rhein." We swung in the half darkness under shadowy 
junks, worked round anchored luggers, till finally the 
boy ran the sampan cleverly ashore, stern first, along 
the slope of the landing-stage. I paid him, and then 
watched till he disappeared in the gloom, rowing strongly 
against the tide. 

The city was very much awake ; people were moving 
about everywhere, lighting themselves with huge paper 
lanterns. A kurumaya turned his 'rickishaw when he 
saw me, and waited. I tried to make him understand 
I wanted to go to Dr. Tomatoda's, but found it impos- 
sible, as I had forgotten the address. Finally I made 
for the English Club, and raised one of the agent's 
clerks. 

He said he was bored to death and wild for ^ night 
210 




f* ,-t 



Mt. s*^ 



ti;aveij.!X(; :\ikxd!('AXT; 




I'KIKST AT A TEMPLE GATE 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

out, so we rapidly made our programme. A short 
ride brought us past a theatre with great flaring lights 
outside, such as one sees at a country fair. There were 
huge pictures illustrative of the play, very gory and 
exciting. Enormous long flags hung down like streamers 
from the roof, covered with ideographic writing. Turning 
up a quiet alley, not far distant from the theatre, we 
alighted at a " yadoya," and, after removing our boots, 
went upstairs. We wanted to go to the theatre, and 
Wilson arranged that we should have two geisha to 
accompany us. Presently the little women arrived, 
with their inevitable wooden cases. 

We hurried through the dinner that followed, and 
to which we invited them, as we wanted to get to the 
theatre as soon as possible. Not even the delicacies 
provided, such as rice cakes, raw fish, daikon, &c., 
could restrain the eagerness of the girls. They, too, 
wanted to be off, giving us to understand that a par- 
ticularly famous actor was performing, and everybody 
was crazy about him. So, after some ceremonial " sake"- 
drinking, we put our boots on loosely and followed the 
maid the short distance to the theatre on foot. There 
was a great crowd in the street, and instead of taking 
our arms in the crush, European style, the gorgeous 
little ladies held on to our hands, after the quaint 
Japanese fashion. At the entrance our boots came 
off again, and one of the maids took them back to the 
" yadoya," leaving us sandals in exchange. Our box 
had been previously obtained while we were at the 
*' yadoya," for the doorkeeper handed a slab of wood, 
covered with letters, to one of the geisha. There was 
a hole in the slab, and a string was passed through the 
hole. This was our ticket. 

Our box Was a part of the theatre floor, about six feet 
square, surrounded by a moulding about four inches 

211 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

high. It was covered by matting, over which was a 
red rug. Several cushions and a hibachi had been 
brought from the " yadoya " for our use. 

Our party consisted oi six people — ^the two geisha, 
ourselves, and two maids behind to attend to our wants. 
There was a sloping pit, on which every one squatted, 
and a gallery, with side boxes, above. The stage was 
elevated above the pit, but there were no footlights, 
a row of hanging oil-lamps serving instead. 

On our right, facing the stage, sat a boy with a pair 
of wooden clappers, which he banged every now and 
again when anything interesting was happening. Behind 
him, in a cage-like side box, was a kind of orchestra, 
and above this, in a similar cage, sat a woman with a 
samisen, and a man who every now and again burst 
into a rapid explanatory recitative before anything 
began to happen, acting, as it were, the part of the 
Greek chorus. 

On the left of the stage, as seen from the front, there 
was a pier-like prolongation, extending out into the 
auditorium, intended for the use of the hero, enabling 
him to appear unexpectedly at any thrilling moment 
on the stage. 

The play was of the interminable variety. It had 
been going on for some days, and all that day. 

We gathered, at the time of our entry, that a woman 
in distress had been captured by robber barons, and the 
hero was busy delivering her, when we arrived, in spite of 
all sorts of witchcraft tricks. The costumes worn by 
the characters were of the most gorgeous. They were 
replicas of the old-time costumes of the country, and 
were intensely interesting to us on that account. 

The hero was dressed as a Samurai, with top knot, 
a long flowing brocaded garment, and two swords. 
When we entered he was having a wordy fight with the 
212 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

chief of the robber barons. They wrestled. Then 
they drew their swords, and fought. As the swords 
clashed each stroke was accentuated by the boy with 
the clappers making a loud bang on the board before 
him. 

The hero slew the robber baron and carried his 
dead body off. Then he lay down nonchalantly to 
sleep at the door of a temple in the background, and 
as he slept he dreamt strange dreams, for as he dreamed 
a little black-robed boy appeared with a mystic scroll 
on the end of a fishing-rod. This he dangled over the 
sleeper's head till, half awake, he grasped it. By a 
stage convention the black-robed boy was supposed 
to be invisible, and so the hero was now in possession 
of a mysterious scroll from nowhere which was a talis- 
man against all spells. When he awakened he found 
the scroll in his hand, and after searching vainly for 
any signs of a donor he fastened it to his temple. This 
ended the act. 

As soon as the curtain fell a lot of little boys immedi- 
ately rushed up and put their heads below it to see the 
scenery shifted. They were able to do this, of course, 
quite easily, as there was no orchestra or footlights to 
separate them from the stage. 

In the interval the audience smoked, had food 
brought to them, and partook of tea in little parties. 
Our little geisha drew out mirrors and combs from 
somewhere, and inspected their elaborate headgear. 
They were noted belles, and probably had lovers in the 
audience of whom they were demurely conscious all 
the time. Everybody talked at once. The people in the 
box behind us had their whole tea-making outfit brought 
in by two attendants. During the interval the lady 
rescued previously, or perhaps it was another lady, was 
again apparently captured, for on the curtain rising she 

213 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

was found in the hands of a set of villainous-looking 
ruffians. Their chief made certain propositions to her, 
which the woman (marvellously acted by a boy) refused 
indignantly, whereupon she was beaten with long 
flexible sticks to the accompaniment of the clapper. 
Still refusing, she was tied to a tree, beaten again, and 
a fire lit under her. The smoke rose, choking her, and 
still she refused. 

Suddenly along the narrow pier rushed the hero. 
He appeared on the stage like a bolt from the blue, 
fell upon the robbers, and rescued the lady. There was 
a great noise of clapping, and the curtain fell over the 
resuscitation of the fainting lady. 

In the next scene the curtain rose showing a huge man 
of most ferocious mien (a mask) sitting on a dais facing 
the audience. He was supposed to be a wicked Daimyo, 
and he was clad in the most gorgeous robes that ever 
Satsuma artist pictured on a vase. He posed immense 
like a god before the people, and the little geisha 
drew their breath inwards as they gazed on him. 

In to him was brought the husband of the lady who 
had been rescued in the previous act. (Apparently 
they were a most unfortunate family.) The Daimyo 
looked at him ponderously, and made a slow, malignant 
speech of triumph. Then the prisoner taunted him 
with cowardice, said he hid behind his myrmidons, 
employed others to do the work he was afraid to attempt 
himself, and challenged him to mortal combat. 

With fierce rage the giant Daimyo answered him, 
accepted the challenge, and told them to unbind the 
prisoner and furnish him with a sword. Then they 
began to fight, the smaller man with his sword against 
the giant with a huge club. It was a good full-blooded 
fight, and they went at it as if they meant it. It was 
well worth seeing. The smaller man slowly began to 
214 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

get the worst of it, he was visibly failing, his blows 
came more feebly, the audience held their breath in sus- 
pense. Suddenly the giant made a mighty sweep with 
his club, as if to finish the business. The other wearily 
ducked, the great club swung narrowly past his head, 
and the Daimyo stumbled forward. Like a flash the 
other had him, the sword flew out straight, and the 
great mass of a man tumbled doubled on the stage. 
It was an immense piece of stage management. The 
audience rose to it. Slowly the Daimyo raised himself 
to a sitting posture. Apparently he was not mortally 
injured, but he was defeated, and he knew it. The 
only thing left was to commit hari-kari, and this he 
deliberately set about doing in front of the audience. 
Everything was ready for the ceremony, the Daimyo 
bowed his head, and then the supernatural came to his 
rescue. 

A demon goddess appeared, and with a wave of her 
wand dropped the conqueror unconscious at her feet. 
Thus the Daimyo was saved for further wickedness. 
A crowd of robbers came in, and the unconscious 
captive was bound and strapped to a couch. Then the 
wicked Daimyo, restored to his power, climbed up 
above the captive, who had now recovered, and told him 
slowly, with minute detail, exactly how he was going 
to proceed to disembowel him. This was obviously the 
hero's chance. He appeared just in the nick of time, 
another fierce fight took place, the Daimyo v/as slain, 
and the captive rescued. But all was not well. They 
had reckoned without the demon goddess. With wild, 
vengeful eyes she now appeared again, armed with a 
long spear, and again under her magic spell the erstwhile 
captive fell a second time unconscious. But not so the 
hero. The talisman he had so mysteriously acquired 
protected him. He drew it now from his temple, where 

215 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

it was fastened, and pointed it at her. Immediately 
she was shorn of her demoniacal power, and the captive 
was raised again. 

But though her magic power was gone, the malignancy 
of her hate and her physical power remained unabated. 
Fiercely she stabbed at the hero with her huge, long 
spear, and skilfully he parried the unexpected attack. 
Again there was a fight, and again right triumphed. 
The curtain dropped on this scene for the night. It 
was twelve o'clock, and the play would be continued 
on the morrow at noon. 

Rapidly the theatre cleared, and we went out with 
the others, donned our sandals, and walked awkwardly 
the thirty yards back to the " yadoya," the little women 
tripping daintily at our sides. We had entertained 
them, and now they felt it incumbent on them to enter- 
tain us in exchange, so they sang and danced for us, 
smoked many cigarettes, laughed, chatted in broken 
English, pretended to teach us Japanese, and ever kept 
filling up our " sake " cups. Night is their time for 
entertaining. Probably they sleep most of the day. 
Entertaining is their occupation, and they have been 
trained up to it from early infancy. To the Japanese 
they are of course much more interesting than to us, 
because they can appreciate their singing and dancing, 
the witty tales they tell, and the poems they have 
been carefully trained to declaim from the Japanese 
classics. Their beauty, too, is of the extreme Japanese 
type — intensely oval faces, very much slanted eyes, very 
willowy figures. It takes the European eye some years 
to appreciate such points. Wilson confessed he had 
not been long enough in the East to do so yet. 

By two o'clock I knew the tide would be turned, 
and by that time I also came to the conclusion I had 
had quite enough " sake " for a man who had to climb 
216 



KOBE, YOKOHAMA, TOKYO 

up an intricate mass of scaffolding to get to his 
ship. 

The bill was sent for, and came in a roll of paper 
eighteen inches long. We paid it and went below to 
don our boots. Then after a ceremonious farewell we 
sallied out into the night. There wasn't a 'rickishaw 
in sight, the streets were absolutely deserted. From 
another " yadoya " a little down the street the sound 
of music floated out to us. It was some one playing the 
biwa. 

We stood on the steps of the " yadoya," the landlord 
having retired inside to look after the comfort of some 
of his other guests. 

" It's a beautiful night," said Wilson. *' I'll walk to 
the hatoba with you." 

Suddenly I felt a soft little hand grasping each of 
mine, saw two little figures, one on either side, and 
heard a voice saying, " We come see you hatoba." 

It was the two geisha, who, having finished so early, 
had taken it into their heads to come and see us off 
in this quaintly friendly way. 

So hand in hand we all four walked through the quiet 
streets, like children coming home from school, in the 
starlight to the hatoba, and there they insisted on 
bargaining for me at the sampan office. It was a good 
thing for me they did. The official in charge was as 
wax under the magic of their smiles. I had a half- 
decked sampan, under which I could lie comfortably 
sheltered from the wind, and two sturdy boatmen to 
take me to the ship. Looking back, I saw them standing, 
two quaint little figures, one on either side of Wilson, 
in the starlight, and heard them calling, " Sayonara — ■ 
sayonara — sayonara " 



21T 



CHAPTER VII 

ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

In the Tropics again : Off the Philippines i The disadvan- 
tages of new paint s Opium and coral islands 



CHAPTER VII 

Such was my " good-bye " to Japan, and for the next 
week I ruminated on what I had seen, wishing to have 
a mental stock-taking before new scenes and fresh 
peoples dimmed the sharpness of memory's retina. 

Preconceived impressions, I found, had been de- 
stroyed or modified, new and discomposing ones added, 
unexpected sidelights thrown upon events and people, 
curious defects and equally unanticipated virtues laid 
bare before me. 

I had looked at things, at first, with the European 
eye ; now I tried to see with those of the Oriental, to 
judge by standards different from my own, to think 
not of what was lacking, but of what had been accom- 
plished ; and the general impression arising from it all, 
I was forced to admit, was one of intense admiration 
and increasing respect for the nation, and more par- 
ticularly its rulers. 

All this is foreign to my theme, for this is not the place 
for a philosophical disquisition on the spirit of Japan 
— that has been already done by many pens — but my 
object in introducing the subject is that I may add 
my protest against the usual statement of the dis- 
honesty of the Japanese as compared with the China- 
man, and offer an explanation which seems to me 
satisfactorily to explain why it appears so. 

In China religion and philosophy have ingrained in 
the people a contempt for the military spirit, and as a 

221 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

consequence the Chinaman has no patriotism. Theoretic- 
ally he is therefore on a higher ethical plane than our- 
selves ; but practically, as a consequence, his country 
has been parcelled out into spheres of influence by 
foreigners, such as English, French, German, and other 
barbarians, who have not yet reached his high standard 
of ethical perfection. He is not a coward, but never- 
theless he allows himself to be dictated to by nations 
whom, if he cared to exert his enormous inherent power, 
he could crush like flies. He has been taught to look 
upon soldiers as in the same category as robbers and 
highwaymen, and his army in consequence is a thing 
of laughter. It is obviously therefore not the ambition 
of any Chinaman to be known as a great military 
leader, when such celebrity would carry with it the 
opprobrium such as we attach to Morgan the Buccaneer, 
and so all the intelligence of the country has been 
diverted to the arts of peace. That is why China 
has produced such wonderful literature, such con- 
summate art treasures, such capable merchants. The 
intellectual shrewdness of the merchant class quickly 
jumped to the knowledge that in business honesty 
is the only policy ; and that is why huge transactions 
are still confidently entered into, between the great 
shipping firms of Europe and Chinamen, without a 
single paper being signed between them. 

On the other hand, the cult of the Samurai was until 
recently all-powerful in Japan, and the spirit of loyalty 
and obedience to the death permeated the very life of 
the nation, showing itself to the present day in an almost 
fanatical patriotism. The soldier has always been the 
great hero of Japanese folklore; tales of fighting and 
dauntless death in the performance of set duties are 
innumerably portrayed on their objects of art. The 
soldier spirit has been responsible for the awakening 
222 



""™!!!1 



ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

of the country, and the same spirit brought it through 
triumphant in its grim struggle with the Colossus of 
the North. 

The merchant in Japan, on the contrary, until quite 
recently, was classed below the peasant and artisan, 
very little above the " eta " or pariahs. Japan had 
no intercourse Avith foreign nations, by command of 
the Emperor, from the fifteenth century till late in the 
nineteenth, and her merchants were mere hucksters 
in consequence, unworthy of the name of traders. Their 
commercial morality was, as might have been expected, 
on a par with their low social status. They were looked 
upon as outcasts, and it was a degradation for any one 
of a higher status to descend to their level ; so although 
the interdict against foreign trade has been removed, 
factories and great industries have been spreading all 
over the country, and a new class of merchant has 
gradually been arising, yet old prejudices are hard to 
kill, and it is still considered lowering for one of the old 
Samurai class to devote the energies he might be apply- 
ing for the benefit of his country to the mere sordid 
pleasure of heaping up a fortune in business for himself 
and his family. Nevertheless a new class of merchant 
is slowly being formed, men of integrity and wealth, 
whose word is their bond; but they are not as yet, I 
regret to say, enough to leaven the whole lump, and the 
European dealing with the Japanese still finds himself 
constantly being cheated unless he effectually safe- 
guards himself. It is not surprising, therefore, that 
the sailor, judging the nation from the merchants he 
comes in contact with, calls them a nation of cheats 
and scoundrels. 

• • • o • 

The first day at sea was comparatively calm, but 
once outside the shelter of the land we found ourselves 

223 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

in trouble, as we were practically empty, running in 
water-ballast, and the sea seemed to know it. Spray 
dashed continuously over everything, leaving a clammy 
steaminess even in our cabins. Every minute a jarring 
shiver shook the ship ; it was the screw " racing " 
as it lifted clear of the water. Every one was in the 
dumps, for we were supposed to be racing against 
time. To get to Soerabaya on the date appointed 
we should have been doing fourteen knots an hour. 
Instead we were barely doing nine. 

" When we get there," grumbled the Mate, " after 
all the extra waste of coal, we'll find they don't really 
want us for some days more, and that we might have 
done it at our leisure. I said we were going to Java, 
and nobody believed me. Now I say all this rush is 
unnecessary, and you'll find I'm right again." 

The horizon was blurred, accurate observations were 
impossible, and we were more or less depending on 
" dead reckoning." At night the " Old Man " took a 
" star observation," and found we were 40° E., so the 
course had to be altered to keep us clear of the Luchu 
Islands. Everybody said this weather could not last 
for more than another twelve hours, but nobody 
believed it. 

The next day the gale was still blowing, and in addi- 
tion rain-storms continually swept over us. The Mate 
said rain usually meant that the wind was going to 
shift. Nevertheless every one was very gloomy. They 
began to think there was a Jonah on the ship — perhaps 
some one had left Japan without paying his debts ; 
a parson had come aboard at Yokohama, and that always 
brought bad luck ; finally they remembered we had 
had bad weather in the Mediterranean and an unusually 
rough time in the China Seas outward bound. The 
conviction therefore gradually grew on them that I was 
224 



rw) 



ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

the Jonah. They joked about it, of course, but there 
was always a faint substratum of belief under their 
joking which they could scarcely conceal — all of which 
made for a vague discomfort. 

The " Old Man " had been on the bridge all day, 
worrying to catch a sight of Torishima, an island in 
the Luchu tail ; but the rain obscured everything, and, 
when we found from the patent log that we should 
have passed it, we stood out west to clear. 

Late at night, however, we sighted Kumishima, the 
sister isle, seven miles on the port beam, and then, to 
our relief, Torishima light itself came in sight seventeen 
miles astern — we had passed it unobserved in the 
moonlight. " That's all right," said the " Old Man." 
Half an hour later, with a snort of relief, he turned in, for 
the sea was clear of everything now till we sighted the 
eastern shore of Luzon, in the Philippines. 

The Mate had been right about the shift in the 
wind. Next day it was comparatively calm, and 
every one forgot about the Jonah. 

When we left Japan it had been wintry weather, the 
temperature had been about 42° F., and we had been 
wrapped to the eyes in heavy serges. Since leaving 
Moji, however, it had been rising 10° a day, and now 
stood at over 70° F. in my cabin. Heavy serges therefore 
had to be discarded and the thinnest of blue substituted. 

A note of cheerfulness had spread all over the ship ; 
the decks were dry and white ; the awnings had been 
put up again ; and a row of deck-chairs stood once 
more outside the companion-hatch. The sea had 
calmed down, and only an occasional roll reminded us of 
the weather we had been having. 

The ship was full of canaries, bought in Moji, cages 
and all, for about a yen. The Mate had one, the 
Chief two, several of the engineers had them also, 

V 225 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and there were at least a dozen in the fo'castle. Now 
when the weather had cleared, and the sun had come 
out again, every one brought his particular pets on 
deck, and they all began to sing at once. They sang 
all day, they sang against one another, the ship was a 
floating cage of melody. 

" Thank goodness, it won't last," said Horner, who 
was only beginning to recover his spirits. " Most of 
them will be sold to the Dutchmen in Java. They're 
worth 80s. to £2 there ; and it's a regular trade with our 
crews." 

The next day was Sunday, and so all the men, except 
the quartermasters on duty, sprawled about the fore 
and after deck smoking and sorting their gear, emptying 
the contents of their sea-chests on the sunny hatches to 
dry. The bo'sun too was very busy. We were going 
into the most oppressively hot part of the Tropics, 
and so all the seamen were coming to him to have 
their hair cropped to the scalp, for the bo'sun was the 
hairdresser of the ship. 

Lazily we watched the victims as one by one he sat 
them on a stool in front of him in a shady corner below 
the fo'castle head and ran the clippers over their heads 
till each had acquired the recognised convict crop. 

At Moji we had shipped five Chinese tally-clerks, 
whose duties were to take a note of every bale of cargo 
as it v/as being dumped into the holds. Chinamen are 
employed for this work, as it is necessary to stand all day 
in the sun while the cargo is being stowed, and white 
men are found unable to bear the strain of it for more 
than a few hours at a time. 

Since leaving Moji these new members of our crew 
had been invisible, but on this glorious afternoon they 
now appeared for the first time, and soon were squatting 
contentedly on the No. 1 hatch for'ard. As a class they 
226 




C]iiXKS]«: TALL^ -('I,ki;ks ciiKCKixri ( .\i;(;() 





A CATAMAKAX 



ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

are very intelligent. They are mostly recruited from 
Singapore, and are very proud of their British citizen- 
ship. 

It was a perfect afternoon, seductively warm. 
The Chief and I lay at full length beneath the 
awning, v^^ith our feet on the top bar of the rail, 
gazing dreamily out over a sea of ultramarine. Far 
away to starboard the sky, a hazy snow-flecked blue, 
melted to a pearly-grey as it touched the horizon, which 
rose and fell to the eye with the slow, monotonous, regular 
roll of the ship. The sea around was flecked with little 
wavelets, and ever and anon up from it, with a hurrying 
rush, would dash a flying fish, glistening silver-white 
in the sunshine as he scurried along a few feet above 
the water in his rapid flight of fifty yards or so till, 
exhausted, he dropped with a splash into his element 
again. 

The whole world seemed to be at peace. It was 
difficult to believe that three days before we had been 
shivering wet in a sea of troubled waters. 

I made a casual remark to the Chief. There was no 
answer, and, looking round, I found he was asleep. 

Then the " Old Man " came out of his cabin, red-faced 
and very burly, clad in gorgeous pyjamas of " battak " 
cloth, his feet in Chinese slippers, and a bath towel in 
his hand. 

He spoke to me in passing, and the Chief wakening 
quietly looked up. He smiled faintly at the figure 
the " Old Man " cut, and drew out his pipe. 

Presently sounds as of a grampus blowing told us the 
" Old Man " was having his afternoon bath. 

" It's not a bad plan," said the Chief reflectively. 

Next day the order came to don " whites," and we all 
appeared snow-clad immaculate at breakfast. We had 

227 



THE SURGEON^S LOG 

been a week at sea with never a sign of a ship or sight of 
land since we skirted the Luehus, so it was quite an 
event when after the moon had risen in the second 
" dog," just as we got up from dinner, the sound of 
" two bells " came from the fo'castle head. 

" Land on the starboard bow ! That should be the 
Philippines ! " said the Mate. 

We all trooped up on deck, and there, faint on the 
rim of the horizon, we could just make out the shadowy 
signs of land. 

Most of the officers had been several times in Manila, 
and they described in graphic terms, as we leant over 
the rail looking at the shadowy coast, their impressions 
of the raw American civilisation which had been so 
suddenly grafted on Spanish immemorial calm — ^the 
strident notes of the fog-siren that had replaced the 
tinkle of the guitar. Most of them, I noticed, preferred 
the guitar. 

All the next morning we were racing along the coast of 
Mindanao, a mass of serrated, blue-grey mountain-peaks 
against a sky capped by golden cumuli, with vast forests 
of dark green pine running down the mountain-sides to 
the sea, and here and there the smoke of a great forest 
fire rising in the tremulous haze. 

Flying catamarans manned by coppery Filipinos once 
or twice came close, but we had not time to stop to 
buy their fish. 

We had logged 3S0 miles in the last twenty- 
four hours, and the " Old Man " was so pleased 
that he permitted himself to chaff the Chief, saying 
he'd have to slow down for fear the bottom plates 
should get heated by the speed we were making. 

The temperature was 90° F. in the shade, but all the 
morning the cool breeze, blowing off the shore, kept 
us quite comfortable. At noon, however, we had 
228 



.■.*\-c< ■ata»r<» I ■ ■■m w i> 



ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

passed Mindanao and sighted Sarangani (5° 19' N., 
125° 19' E.), we were clear away from the land, and 
now the starboard side felt like an oven, and the heat- 
waves could almost be seen beating through the awnings 
as a big dragon-fly from the land spread his iridescent 
wings and preened himself on the rail before me. 

I left him to enjoy himself and moved my chair to 
port. A huge shark, with his triangular fin sticking 
up, passed us in the opposite direction. Had we been 
a sailing ship he would have hovered round for days, 
battening on the garbage thrown overboard, always 
hopeful of a human mouthful as a tit-bit, till perchance 
some day, tempted by a lump of bacon on a hook, he 
was landed fifteen feet of vicious life on the deck. 

Now and again, as I lay watching, a dolphin would 
raise his nose out of the water just behind a scurrying 
flying fish, which had taken to the air to avoid him, 
whilst further out a line of splashing white-flecked spots 
indicated a school of bonito jumping. 

Everybody on the ship was busy — ^the " Old Man " 
over his accounts, the Mate superintending the 
painting operations which were to bring us " ship- 
shape and Bristol fashion," shining like a baby after 
its morning tub, into port. There we should have 
ladies aboard, and everything must be as fresh as the 
whitest of white paint, the purest of enamel, and the 
most persistent holystoning could get it. Down in 
the bunkers the engineers were hurrying the sweating 
Chinamen to clear the coal out of the deep-tank, so 
that it could be washed and made ready to receive its 
share of the cargo of copra, sugar, spices, tobacco, 
and gums we would be bringing home to Europe. 

Next day we were in a sea of glass. Not a ripple 
dimmed the mirror of the water. Over the vast circle of 
the horizon there lay a halcyon calm, only the long 

229 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

white line, stretching to apparent infinity behind, 
marking our course through the stillness. Now and 
again startled flying fish would rise in the calm morning, 
leaving little whip-lash tracks as they sank again. A 
solitary boatswain bird hovered around with his great 
wings and marlinspike tail outspread, and now and 
again a group of bonito would shoot up dark against 
the skyline, falling back with a splash into the water 
again. 

But every now and then a change would come over 
the water. Little round patches, running into one 
another, would form, and the clear smoothness be 
dimmed by a thousand dimples. 

"Watching the ' cat's-paws,' Doc. ? " said the Mate's 
voice at my elbow. "If we were in a ' wind-jammer ' 
you'd be anxious to see more of them. One might 
wallow for days in a sea like this, and never make a 
mile." 

All morning they had been painting steadily, but 
just before noon, when there were yards and yards of 
fresh wet paint, to the consternation of the Mate the 
sky suddenly darkened, and almost before we could reach 
shelter the rain came down in torrents, sluicing along the 
decks, gurgling out of the scuppers, beating through 
the awnings, catching the Chief unawares and soaking 
him through. 

We had all been in immaculate whites for some days, 
and this painting had been a sore trial to us, for every 
time we forgot we were sure to mark their snowy 
innocence with black or green or red — never by any 
chance white. The Chief said it was a special interven- 
tion of Providence, this rain, to punish the Mate for 
what we had suffered. 

In the afternoon I had an interview with the No. 1 
Chinaman. It was about the opium in the Chinese 
230 



ON THE WAY TO JAVA 

fo'castle. The Dutch have very stringent regulations 
about opium. It is a Government monopoly, and, 
should an inspector discover any aboard, the ship 
would be heavily fined and the Chinaman responsible 
get two or three months in chains. 

We talked it over, and he promised to put all he 
could find under my care till we got clear of land. But 
of course I did not get it all. They brought me a tin 
of treacly stuff, holding about four ounces, and swore 
that was all they had. 

I had to be content with that. I had done my best ; 
they knew the risks, and would have to take precautions 
accordingly. 

On the next day, at seven o'clock in the morning, 
we crossed the Line, myself and the deck-boy being the 
only two on board who had not already made the 
acquaintance of Father Neptune. The boy, I heard, 
had a rough time of it in the fo'castle, having to 
go through the traditional handling ; but, for me, 
as I threatened to " doctor " all the food in the saloon 
if they played any tricks, I was permitted, as a great 
concession, to sign a " chit " for the liquid refreshment 
of all and several who cared to call for it throughout 
the morning. 

The " Old Man " was cutting corners in his hurry, 
contrary to the company's regulations ; and as this 
part of the world is not very accurately charted, he 
began to feel a little nervous when we came so close 
to the southern coast of Borneo that we could see trees 
and houses distinctly through the glasses. 

Accordingly we made more over towards the other 
side, and so all the afternoon the coast of Celebes lay 
outspread before us. Early in the second " dog," just 
before sundown, two bottle-nosed whales came along- 
side the ship, blowing and chasing each other quite 

231 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

regardless of our presence — a sign that we were in very 
unfrequented waters. 

It was the next day I saw my first coral island. 
At a distance it looked like a fleet of fishing praus, but 
as one came nearer the feathery tops of the palm trees 
could be made out, then the coral reef with its pearly 
beach of sand, finally a red-roofed house half buried in 
the dark green of the cocoanut plantation, a spire, what 
looked like a windmill, and that was all. It lay basking 
in the sunlight, a forgotten pearl of the ocean. Appar- 
ently it had not even a name — ^the chart represented it 
as a dot. Probably some lonely Dutchman, or half- 
caste, ruled it with his dusky wife, going with his supply 
of copra in sailing praus twice in the year to Macassar, 
having a gay old time there for a week, and then re- 
turning for another six months to sit on the verandah 
of his red-roofed house, and watch enviously, or pityingly, 
the smoke of an occasional ship like ours, passing from 
the hurry of the great world to the hurry of the great 
world without a thought for him. 



232 



CHAPTER VIII 

JAVA : AT SOERABA YA 

The approach to the Garden of Eden ; Concerning mosquitoes 5 
Jimi, the sampan-man : The Chinaman in Java ; On buying 
sarongs : Betel-chewing and "Latah" : A night invasion by 
the sirens : On krises : The odd behaviour of the " Treacle 
Man": The Javanese theatre; Off to Macassar 



CHAPTER VIII 

It was early on an Easter Sunday morning that we first 
sighted the high coast of Java, piled peak on peak 
into the blue ; and all that day we were running along 
it, in a sunlit sea, at a temperature of 90° F. in the 
shade. 

To starboard the low-lying coast of the great island 
of Madura ran in a continuous blue irregular line on 
the edge of the horizon. To port the mountain cones 
of Java, great shimmering peaks of azure, towered high 
above the sea in the early morning, till they were hidden 
by the midday haze. Cloud-capped during the day, 
they glow an angry red at night, indicative of the 
smouldering fires underneath, ready to break out at 
any moment and startle the world with a vast inunda- 
tion similar to that of Krakatoa — for Krakatoa is 
but one of the fifty-six active or extinct volcanoes present 
in this great belt of igneous subterranean life. 

All around the sea was dotted with the triangular 
black-and-white striped sails of native fishing praus, 
whilst every now and then we would pass a great lumber- 
ing Dutchman under full sail, square yards rotund to 
the favouring wind. Close to us a trading prau, gor- 
geously carved, piled high with rice in great straw 
bundles, was making for Macassar, with her two huge 
triangular sails bowed like cones by the wind, her 
narrow thin hull steadied by two long bamboo out- 
riggers, touching the water, one on either side. 

235 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Around us schools of porpoises rolled oilily in the 
summer sea, and pieces of drift-wood, each with its 
crew of black and white sea birds, were carried rapidly 
in the current towards the Straits of Macassar. 

Under the guidance of the pilot we progressed slowly 
as we drew nearer and nearer to our destination through 
a fleet of fishing praus at anchor, with nets thrown 
out buoyed by pieces of bamboo. The tree-clad Madura 
coast came closer and closer, the crenated red-tiled roofs 
of low white pillared houses could now be made out, 
and the clear outline of two great white Dutch cruisers 
at anchor near the shore. 

More and more ships appeared — ^Dutch, English, Nor- 
wegian, two of our own company's boats, a long white 
cable-ship with its stunted cut-off bow, and the usual 
petroleum boats, far out, flying the danger flag. 

Slowly we swung round to the Java side, towards a 
line of stakes projecting from the shallow water. The 
sea-breeze had dropped, and a sweet, heavy, clinging 
odour came wafted from the mangrove-tangled shore. 
Sweeping past a clean-cut artificial opening leading to 
a dock inside of which we saw a man-o'-war, almost 
concealed by the overpowering vegetation, a little 
further round we spied a park with a band-stand, and 
the white glimmer of women's dresses amongst the 
tamarinds. 

As we slowly forged ahead sampans came hurrying 
towards us, all very gaily painted with green and red 
arabesques. They were considerably different from the 
sampans we had been used to in Japan. Most of them 
had a crew of two ; one man rowed in the bow with a 
short paddle having a heavy cross-handle at the top, 
the other steered in the stern with a similar blade. They 
all had the typical Malay triangular sail set on a long 
bamboo spar, with a short mast stepped for'ard, and 
236 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

most of them boasted a square awning amidships. 
With long boat-hooks they tried to catch on to the 
sides of the ship, but we were too high for them, and 
with gestures of despair they swept rapidly astern in 
the tide. One man, however, was more fortunate. By 
a lucky accident he caught his boat-hook in the open 
after-port of my cabin, and, once he had got his pur- 
chase, hung on like grim death. Some one threw him 
a rope, and this he also grasped, letting go with the 
boat-hook. We were now opposite the entrance to a 
canal running up to the city of Soerabaya itself. It 
was crowded with praus, lighters, and sampans, and 
overlooking it were the landing-stage and the low, rib- 
tiled, red-roofed, whitewashed building of the Custom- 
house. 

Down went the anchor, and we were moored within a 
few hundred yards of our sister ships in the company's 
service, about half a mile from the shore. 

Soon after a launch ran alongside and we were boarded 
by a huge Dutchman, very fat, very red, very perspiring, 
clad in spotless whites and a big straw hat, representing 
the port authorities and the Nederlands Government. 
After him, at a respectful distance, came a crowd of 
Malays, turbaned, saronged, very brown, bare-footed 
or in Arab sandals — boatmen, barbers, tailors, dhoby- 
men, cigar-sellers, battak merchants, jewellers, money- 
changers, pearl merchants, boot-makers, kris-sellers, 
fruit-hawkers — any and every kind of merchant one 
could possibly want, and some one did not want. 

That evening at dinner there was much talk of Java 
fever and the risk of sitting on deck after sundown. 
" There's no risk at all, if you don't sit out on deck 
after nine o'clock," said the " Old Man." " I got it 
once, but it was my own fault. It was at this very port 
of Soerabaya, too. I was mate of the old Menelaus at 

237 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

the time, and the ' Old Man ' had gone ashore, leaving 
me in charge. We had a Dutch crew, and somehow 
or other they all managed to get on a tremendous 
blind in the fo'castle. That, of course, was none of 
my business — a certain amount of liberty must be given 
sailors in port — but when the Chink steward came along 
and told me they were fighting with knives — a dirty 
Dago trick I didn't expect — I had to interfere. I 
knocked down the first man I saw with a knife in his 
hand, and was just going to tackle another when the 
man I had floored jabbed me in the leg as he lay. I 
kicked him on the jaw to make him stop, broke his 
' zig ' something — [" zygoma," I murmured]. Yes, that's 
it. I was pretty warm after the tussle, and so, instead 
of going below, after binding up my leg on deck, I sat 
down in my chair, partly to cool, partly to let them 

see I had my eye on them, in case There was a lot 

of mist rising from the water, but I didn't bother 
about that. Ten days after I was down with the fever, 
and I can tell you I don't want it again." 

Having delivered himself of this harangue, the " Old 
Man " had a sampan hailed for him and went ashore. 

"It's all right for the ' Old Man ' to talk of turning in 
at nine o'clock," said the Chief, as we sat comfortably 
in the cool darkness later, gazing at the winking sampan 
lights moving erratically over the phosphorescent water ; 
" but he's gone ashore to the ' Club,' and hasn't got 
to sit in a stifling cabin all evening till he feels sleepy. 
Blow the fever ! " 

So, in defiance of the " Old Man's " warnings, we sat up 
till our usual " five bells." 

All the cabins were fitted with mosquito-nets, and 
every one talked of the nuisance of having to sleep under 
them. As we were half a mile from the shore, however, 
and the mosquito cannot fly more than two hundred 
238 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

yards, I thought we must be fairly safe, and deter- 
mined to do without mine. I had forgotten, of course, 
that there might be mosquitoes hidden in the lighters 
around us. No one luckily had faith enough to imitate 
my example except the Chief Steward, who had for- 
gotten to have one made for his berth in Yokohama, 
and so could scarcely be considered a convert. In the 
morning I found I was all right, but on the Steward 
appearing his face was a caricature of blotches, both 
eyes were almost closed, there were painful red nodules 
on his forehead and on the back of his neck. It was 
difhcult not to laugh. Under treatment, however, 
he rapidly got well ; but I could not see how I myself 
had managed to escape, till I discovered what looked 
like a number of flea-bites, and found I had been bitten 
in several places apparently without producing any 
effect. I determined therefore to try again the second 
night, and found, as I had hoped, that I was unaffected. 
As it is denied that Java fever is conveyed by mos- 
quitoes, I decided therefore to discard nets all the rest of 
the time I was in the East. 

To understand the situation of the Javanese ports 
one must remember that the backbone of the island is 
a ridge of mountainous peaks close to the southern 
shore, and that towards the north, where we were, the 
country sweeps in one great plain towards the sea. 
On the south anchorage is deep right up to the land, 
whereas on the north there is shallow water for a con- 
siderable distance from the shore ; and so, as all the 
cities are inland to be clear of the miasma, canals have 
had to be made from the coast up to them, probably 
originally dredged from some convenient creek. Soera- 
baya is such a port. It lies about two or three miles 
from the coast, and a typical Dutch canal, starting 
opposite our anchorage, ended in a great basin in the 

239 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

centre of the city. There is also a steam-tram running 
parallel to the canal from the town and ending at the 
Custom-house opposite the anchorage. 

I had engaged my own especial boatman. He said 
his name was " Jimi," and so I called him by it. He 
was a most picturesque, smiling little rascal, in a brilliant 
red " kam-kapula " turban above his brown face, loose 
white baju jacket, short khaki trousers, a sarong 
looped round the waist, bare brown legs, and prehensile 
toes. His knowledge of English was primitive, but he 
seemed to know instinctively what one wanted. He 
was always smiling, always alert, nothing was a trouble 
to him. He took possession of me with the most perfect 
ease of manner. 

On his left little finger he wore the Hadji ring, with 
its clear inset round pebble. 

" Bolong my brother," he explained. " He Haj — 
me no can. No have got money. Perhaps allri, byem- 
bye." 

He rowed me ashore in his sampan, where I lay a 
white figure in the centre under the awning, my sun- 
helmet pulled over my eyes. Jimi, and his brown 
understudy behind him, sat, on little fixed seats in the 
bow, facing me. At every second stroke they stood up 
to take a longer sweep, and so we progressed with great 
speed towards the beach, passing en route a huge ferry 
prau coming over from the Madura side with numerous 
Malay passengers and a great load of tropical fruits, 
a perfect feast of colour — pisangs, nankos, duriens, 
papayas, pineapples, luscious green and yellow oranges, 
that made one thirsty even to think of. 

The creek was crowded with praus waiting for the 
tide to work their way up to Soerabaya. Some of them 
were wonderfully beautiful with their great carved 
240 



r 





HEAVINC; THE LEAD GOIXG INTO SOERABAVA 




'OCCASIOXALLY A BAKGE WOULD COME LrMBElitXG 
DOWN" (See p. 2 12) 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

bowsprits, their sterns sculped and painted in beautiful 
geometrical arabesques, scolloped lines of gilding on 
the stem, above the lozenge-shaped red and white and 
black painted belt on the sides, and the great staring black 
eyes with wide white rims painted one on either bow, 
so that the spirit of the ship might see to guide her 
safely in the night. 

Jimi ran us through a tangled mass of sampans to 
the long flight of stone steps at the landing-stage, every 
one making way obsequiously for the white man. 

The half-caste Custom-house official gave me all the 
necessary information about the way to get to the town, 
and the fares by tram and carriage. He talked as to 
an equal, for the Dutch have solved the problem of 
the Eurasian in quite a simple way. They do not 
despise and degrade him, as we Britishers do, on account 
of his black blood. No ; they say he has Dutch blood, 
therefore he is a Dutchman. He is accordingly treated 
as such, his Malay mother is ignored, and he can marry 
a white girl out from Amsterdam without any outcry. 
Consequently he is a man, and not a vicious pariah. 

There are no 'rickishaws in Java. I found I could 
either take the tram to Soerabaya, or hire a one- or 
two-horsed " sadoe," or a carriage. The " sadoe " is 
a two-wheeled spring cart with an awning. It is drawn 
by one or more little Timor or sandal-wood ponies ; 
the driver sits in front, and the fare crouched up 
balancing him, sits behind. It is a most uncomfort- 
able conveyance, and after my first experience I, for 
the future, always preferred to use a carriage. 

The road to Soerabaya is an open book, with living 
illustrations, of the life and habits of the people, for the 
Malay has solved the problem of existence by living 
practically out of doors. There is no need of thick 
walls and a complicated system of heating to keep out 

o 241 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

the cold in a country where the temperature practically 
never falls below 85° F., and consequently the home 
of the Malay is not a fortress against the elements, 
but a cool retreat where, sheltered from the sun, in 
his hours of ease he may chew the betel of happiness 
in somnolent content ; for, like his brethren in the lower 
planes of evolutionary life, the fowls of the air and the 
beasts of the field, sun, wind, and rain are but adjuncts 
to his physical needs, not enemies of his body. He is 
the primitive man, Antseus-like, deriving his strength 
from the touch of the warm, brown, kindly earth, his 
mother. 

It was a little after sunrise when I started from the 
landing-stage, and the activities of the day were just 
commencing. The men had already had their morning 
swim in the canal, and the sun was now brightening 
to a livelier green the tamarinds on the further bank. 
Little boys and girls, like glistening bronze fauns, were 
splashing and calling to one another in the warm water, 
and women with the slim bodies and wonderful carriage 
of the East, wearing great turquoise earrings, their 
softly rounded shoulders bared to the sun, fresh from 
the water, were coiling their glistening coal-black hair 
in pyramids above their shapely heads, putting in 
jessamine, rose, or tan djong flowers on either side behind 
their ears with slender, long, brown fingers. 

Occasionally a barge would come lumbering down, 
and from the pent-house aft the denizens at their 
morning meal would call out softly modulated greetings 
to their acquaintances on the banks. All along the 
road, which ran parallel to the canal, under the shelter 
of the tall waringen trees, little native " worongs " 
(restaurants) now appeared, for the Javanese almost 
always breakfast out of doors, the midday meal being 
the only usual one taken at home. There are many 
242 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

varieties of the " worong " ; the most ambitious have 
an atap-covered roof resting upon four corner posts, 
with rough wooden seats under cover, but the commonest 
variety, because most portable, is that consisting of 
two wooden boxes, one containing food, the other a 
brazier and crockery. These two cases, swung on a 
bamboo pole, can be carried by their proprietor any- 
where he may think custom is likely. 

That morning they all seemed to be doing a roaring 
trade, and having tasted the fare on many occasions 
later, I caif testify to its appetising nature — hot steam- 
ing coffee fictvoured with areng-sugar, beautifully cooked 
rice with an appetiser of dried fish, pink and yellow 
" kwee-kwee " (cakes), trembling pink jellies, and sirupy 
" limonade." 

Around each, as we ambled slowly along, was a 
laughing, talking group of light-hearted, careless cus- 
tomers, clad in the loose jacket and sarong which are so 
eminently suitable to the climate, and which the com- 
fort-loving Dutchwomen have adopted and wear 
throughout the greater part of the day, instead of the 
tight -fitting, unsuitable European clothes so irksomely 
borne by the " mem-sahib " of British India. That 
is why the Dutchwoman can live ten — fifteen — ^twenty 
years in good health in Java without ever going home, 
to the great saving of her own body, her children's 
health, and her hasband's pocket. 

Presently the sieam-tram puffed noisily past, going 
towards the harbour, and having three compartments, 
one for white men, one for Chinese, and one for natives. 
As we approached the city the canal banks became 
more and more animate, and the sweating coolies, 
hurrying with huge bales of sugar wrapped in matting 
from " go-down " to lighter, m.ore frequent. 

The road, like all Dutch roads, was wide, smooth, 

243 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and straight, lined on either side by tall tamarind, 
kanari, and waringen trees, casting a grateful shade 
all along the route, and making driving a pleasure. The 
Dutch have made these wonderful roads all through 
Java, mostly, it must be admitted, by means of forced 
labour in the old monopoly days. Everywhere one 
goes, however, one finds them perfect. 

Along this road then we trotted, passing every kind 
of life — staid Chinamen in pigtails with paper umbrellas, 
Paranaks (half-caste Chinese) in a nondescript mixture 
of Malay and Chinese dress, big rollicking sailors from 
the Dutch men-o'-war out on the spree, and Malays 
innumerable in every stage of dress and undress. At 
length we came to the centre of the city, where the 
canal expands into a great central basin, and there 
two hours later I picked up the Chief at the company's 
office, as per arrangement. 

The Chinese are the merchants of Java — they have 
nearly ousted the Dutch from retail trade. Export 
trade, curiously enough, is largely in the hands of a 
number of Scotch firms who established themselves 
under the Raffles regime during the English occupa- 
tion in Napoleon's time, and have remained, constantly 
recruited from Edinburgh and Aberdeen, ever since. 
The Dutch, on the other hand, do the governing, run 
the plantations, and any remaining trade left over by 
the Scotchmen and the Chinese. 

We turned into a Chinese shop where almost every- 
thing conceivable was sold, a huge emporium filled 
with European goods. The centre of the ground floor 
was laid out as a " bier-hall," and galleries filled 
with goods ran in tiers above. It was very cool and 
refreshing to sit comfortably there after the glare out- 
side. White-clad Dutchmen with red faces dropped 
in for an iced lager ; fat, white-robed Dutch ladies came 
24^ 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

shopping; little Dutch girls, with long pigtails, came 
with governesses and elder sisters to buy toys — and the 
bland Chinamen and Paranak shop-hands attended to 
all their wants. 

The proprietor was a Singapore Chinaman, and when 
we paid our bill in English gold he came across to speak 
to us. He said he was a Britisher. Afterwards I dis- 
covered he was almost a millionaire, and kept two 
steamers carrying goods to and from Hong Kong. Yet 
the Dutch treated him just as they would the lowest 
coolie. He was not allowed to live outside the Chinese 
quarter, had no civic rights, was taxed exorbitantly, 
was not permitted to buy any land, and could not even 
cut off his pigtail without permission of the law-courts. 

The natives hate the Chinese, just as the European 
hated the Jew in the Middle Ages, for the Chinaman 
is the money-lender and the tax-collector of the East. 

The Dutch dislike them because most of the trade of 
the country is in their hands, and they are indispensable. 
They have never been trusted since they joined the 
natives in the rebellion of 1720, when 20,000 of them 
were slaughtered by the Dutch. After that they were 
debarred from all monopolies and revenue-farming, and 
restricted to their present mean position. In 1837 an 
Act of Exclusion was passed, but found impossible to 
uphold, as all the trade of the island was in their hands, 
and the Dutchmen discovered they could not do without 
their Chinese compradors. 

Consequently all that they can do is tax the Chinaman 
unmercifully, treat him as a dog, and make things 
generally uncomfortable. As long, however, as the 
Chinaman is making money he is quite willing to put 
up with it, for, after all, his life and property are safer 
here than in the Celestial Empire. Turning out of the 
Chinaman's shop, we stumbled into the Arab quarter. 

245 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

It might have been a corner of Baghdad, for there was 
the " messigit " (mosque), and issuing from it came a 
number of white-robed figures, sedately slow, chatting 
with dignified stateliness as they walked along, seemingly 
as if they had just issued from the pages of the " Arabian 
Nights." 

Yet another street was given over to what Anglo- 
Indians call " Bombay shops," full of Indian bazaar 
stuff, and Japanese curios of an inferior kind at a price 
that would have been extortionate even in London. 

But it was the " native " streets — the street of the 
carpenters, that of the workers in bamboo, rattan, and 
metal, the street of the mat -makers, that of the curry 
cooks, &c. — we found so interesting. Everywhere, as 
is the immemorial custom of the East, those of a trade 
have their shops and workrooms close together in one 
street. 

Particularly interesting Avere the " Passers " (markets), 
where every kind of vegetable and fruit could be bought. 
Piled up in masses, they were a medley of colours that 
made one ache to be an artist. 

For " tiffin " some one had directed us to the Hotel 
des Indes, and here we found a cool delicious hour 
could be spent toying with a menu splashed in places 
by its Oriental origin. It was printed in French, of 
course — no self-respecting proprietor could have had 
it otherwise — ^but the beef was buffalo beef, the courses 
had queer flavours not associated in one's mind with the 
same dish at home, and the fruit — one is not accustomed to 
be offered a pyramid of pineapples, pisangs, rambootans, 
and dookos as part of the dessert of a two-franc lunch. 

After " tiffin " we wandered round the " Passers," 
picking up any queer things we fancied. The Chief 
wanted a sarong (loin-cloth) for use during the 
extremely hot weather, and we wandered into several 
246 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

booths in the " Passers " looking for one with a design 
sufficiently striking. Many of these native designs are 
exceedingly bizarre ; some of them are very intricate, 
and take a long time to stamp out by hand, after the 
native fashion. Collecting sarongs has become a 
craze with the wealthy Dutch ladies, and as much as 
a hundred gulden has been paid for a very fine 
specimen. But we were not looking for anything so 
grand — we wanted them for use — and eventually got 
what suited our purses in the stall of a Paranak in one 
of the " Passers." 

The Chinaman wrapped mine up in a piece of news- 
paper, fastened at one end by a cactus thorn. Looking 
at the paper, I found it was a page of a Daily Mail 
of the year before, filled with dim echoes of forgotten 
things in the little island that here seemed so far away. 
The whole episode appeared somehow unreal when one 
came to think about it, but when I showed the wrapping 
to the Cliief he only grinned cheerfully. 

" That's nothing," he said. " These sarongs are all 
made in Manchester. All the cheap ones are. But 
look at this international complication. I've just 
bought these. They're Swedish matches, printed in 
English, with the figure of an Arab woman on the 
cover, sold by a Chinaman, in a Malay bazaar, to an 
Irishman, working for an English company, in a Dutch 
colony. The Tower of Babel can't be far oil. Eh, what ! " 

Close beside us a Malaj'^ woman, with her baby slung 
in a " slandang " over one hip, was bargaining in in- 
finitesimal fractions of a cent for a box of powdered 
chalk with which to whiten her forehead and another 
of yellow " boreh " ointment for her arms. We left 
her still haggling, and, re-entering our carriage, drove 
on by the side of one of the many canals that give 
these Javanese towns such axuriously exotic Dutch look. 

247 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

There is no mock modesty about the Javanese. They 
were bathing, washing clothes, washing utensils, and 
drawing water for domestic purposes all from the 
same source. The Dutch, since they have brought 
the Soerabaya water supply down from the mountains, 
and thus whitened the unenviable reputation of the 
port for cholera, have forbidden the use of canal water 
for drinking purposes ; but the Eastern mind is very 
tenacious of custom, and the native still dies from the 
polluted water philosophically, and freshens his fruit 
for market from the same source. 

" That's where our dhoby-men wash our clothes so 
clean and white," said the Chief, nodding sagely. " Nice, 
isn't it ? " 

It was Easter Monday and a general holiday amongst 
the Dutch. The Malays, of course, are always holidaying, 
and we saw them everywhere, lying contentedly in the 
sun, chewing betel, and expectorating the sanious saliva 
derived therefrom from between their blackened teeth. 

Betel-chewing is as prevalent in the Malay Archi- 
pelago as cigarette-smoking in Europe ; and I cannot 
do better than transcribe Dampier's description of it 
— written in 1686 — as it is as accurate to-day as when 
it was first penned : — 

" This fruit [the betel] is bigger than a nutmeg, and 
is much like it, but rounder. It is used all over the 
East Indies. Their way is to cut it in four pieces, 
and wrap one of them up in an arek-leaf, which they 
spread with a soft paste made of lime or plaster, and 
then chew it altogether. Every man in these parts 
carries his lime-box by his side, and dipping his finger 
into it, spreads his betel and arek-leaf with it. The 
betel-nut is most esteemed when it is young, and before 
it grows hard, and then they cut it only in two pieces 
with the green husk or shell on it. It is then exceeding 
248 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

juicy, and therefore makes them spit much. It tastes 
rough in the mouth, and dyes the lips red, and makes 
the teeth black, but it preserves them, and cleanseth 
the gums. It is also accounted very wholesome for the 
stomach ; but sometimes it will cause great giddi- 
ness in the head of those that are not used to chew it. 
But this is the effect of the old nut, for the young nuts 
will not do it. I speak of my own experience." 

That this constant use of a powerful drug seems to 
produce no apparent pathological effects is very sur- 
prising. That it does not is, however, to my mind 
doubtful. In the analogous tobacco habit amongst 
civilised people every physician knows that though 
the vast majority escape any injury, there are by no 
means infrequent cases of people particularly susceptible 
to the poison of nicotine, with all its grave sequelae. 
Similarly, I have no doubt that symptoms of betel- 
poisoning in a certain number of cases would, if care- 
fully sought for, be found. 

Perhaps Idtah is a result of betel-poisoning. It 
certainly is an exceedingly curious mental condition, 
almost confined to the Malay, and co-extensive with the 
betel-chewing habit. 

To any one who has never seen Idtah before, the 
gesticulations of the unfortunate sufferers appear at 
first either funny or insultingly offensive until ex- 
plained away ; for a person suffering from Idtah will, 
if suddenly startled, fall into the hypnotic state and 
imitate the gestures of any one in sight — e.g. a decrepit 
old lady, startled by a bicycle bell, will violently 
imitate the pedalling of the passing cyclist with her 
ancient limbs till she falls down exhausted. That they 
make these movements entirely against their will is 
evident when one considers the well-known torture 
that little Malay boys perpetrate, when they have an 

249 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

opportunity, on a known Idtah. When he is warming 
his hands over a brazier the boy will suddenly and 
noisily drop something behind him. This is quite 
enough to startle him into the Idtah state, and then, 
standing in front of him, the boy will make movements 
of his hands as if to pick up the red-hot embers. 
These movements the unfortunate Idtah finds himself 
compelled to imitate time after time, and so he 
thrusts his hands into the hot embers, keeping level 
in movements with his tormentor, till his fingers are 
badly burnt or some one rescues him, soundly cuffing 
the yoUng rascal's ears. 

It is probably in the Idtah state that Malays run amok, 
and then they are as dangerous as a mad dog, and as 
httle responsible for themselves. It is an idea of mine 
that constant betel-chewing is the predisposing factor 
producing a condition of nervous instability that so 
easily might degenerate into Idtah. But it is an idea 
only. No one, as far as I can discover, has suggested 
it, or attempted experimentally to prove it.* 

But to return to the Chief. We ambled along the 
wide roads in a carriage almost as wide, built evidently 
for the matronly proportions of two Dutch ladies of 
chaperon age, very roomy and very comfortable. The 
Malay driver took us to the European quarter, and there 
I made my first acquaintance with the beautiful Dutch 

* The subject of Idtali is one of great interest to those interested 
in Malay psychology. Popular accounts of this peculiar affection 
will be found in Swettenham's "Malay Sketches," Clifford's "Studies 
in Brown Humanity," and an article by H. A. O'Brien in the Asiatic 
Journal for 1883. For the medical aspects of the condition see : — 
Neale, "■Latah in Java," Brit. Med. Journ. 1884, P-Z; Van Brero, 
" Latah in Java," Journ. Ment. Sc, 1895 ; G. Ellis, " Latah," Journ. 
Ment. Sc, 1897; Gerrard, "Hypnotism and Latah,'' Dub. Journ. 
Med. Sc, 1904; Manson, "Latah"; Allbutt's " Syst. Med.," vol. ii. 
pt. 2, 1907; Fletcher, "Latah and Crime," Lancet, vol. ii. 1908. 
250 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

colonial houses, built like Grecian temples, with columns 
and great marble floors, that I shall describe more fully 
in the account of Macassar. 

The railway station for Batavia was here, and we 
noticed that all the railway clerks and officials seemed 
to be Chinamen. The trains in Java are very com- 
fortable, and run at regular intervals during the day, 
but never at night. The engine-drivers are natives, 
and the Dutch do not care to trust them in the dark. 
Consequently when night comes all trains stop at the 
nearest station, and the passengers put up for the night 
in the Government " Passagrahan," or hotel, till the 
next morning, when they resume their leisurely journey 
onwards. 

On the way back to the ship we stopped at the 
" Passer " nearest the harbour to have a look at the 
fruit stalls. The Chief insisted on addressing every one 
gravely in English, and everybody smiled, taking it 
as a joke of the incomprehensible English sailor-man. 
We walked leisurely through the " Passer," and pre- 
sently I noticed that two bright-eyed, red-saronged 
brown girls were following us, each with an empty 
basket slung in her " slandang," giggling. Apparently 
they wanted, for a small fee, to carry anything we chose 
to buy to om" carriage. But when the Chief turned and 
explained in fluent Malay, which I had thought he did 
not know — ^the wily old ruffian — that we did not 
want to buy anything, and so would not require their 
services, their looks of disappointment were so deep 
that we compromised by giving them a cigar and five 
cents each, probably more than they would have earned 
from a native in a day, and soon saw them hurrying ofi 
delighted, smoking their cigars like connoisseurs. Then 
we hastened back to the ship. It was about the dinner 
hour, and it would be pitch-dark at 6.15 p.m. 

251 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

At dinner the heat was intense, though every ven- 
tilator and port was open to its utmost. Even the 
succulent exotic fruits and iced lager could not make 
us feel cool, and so it was with a gasp of relief that we all 
trooped on deck when the " Old Man " signalled by 
rising that dinner was over. The night breeze was 
just commencing, and in the darkness we lounged back 
in our deck-chairs drinking in its freshness, recklessly 
disregarding the croaking warnings of fever and its 
consequences again uttered at dinner by the " Old 
Man," who of course had gone ashore to a concert at 
the " Harmonicon," and so would be clear of it all. 

All was quiet on the waters. We watched the 
" anchor " lights of the other ships twinkling in the 
distance, and the many lanterns of the sampans flitting 
across the harbour from point to point. From the 
fo'castle head came the tinkle of a banjo, and then a 
voice singing in a sweet tenor came floating down to us : 

" Sing and heave, and heave and sing, 

Hoodah to my hoodah. 
Heave and make the hand-spikes ring, 

Hoodah, hoodah-day. 
And it's blow, ye winds, heigh-ho, 

For Cal-i-for-ni-o, 
For there's plenty of gold. 

As I've been told. 
On the banks of the Sacramento." 

It was the sailors having a sing-song, no watches 
being kept in port except the gangway watch, which 
is stationed at the top of the ladder to question all 
strangers coming on board before admitting them. No 
one saw, however, that on this particular night the 
man supposed to be on watch had been seduced from 
his post by the music, and no one noticed, either, that 
a long sampan with two lights that had been hovering 
out in the darkness had crept in nearer. 
252 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

There was a faint creaking as it bumped against the 
ladder, a subdued giggle, a hurrying of feet in the 
darkness, and then the calm was broken by some dozen 
brown figures scrambling on to the saloon deck, where 
we were lying in our chairs smoking in the cool night. 

It was a complete surprise such as the Malay pirates 
of thirty years before might have planned, only these 
were women, coral-beaded, bangled on arms and legs, 
saronged, redolent of ylang-ylang, cocoanut-oil, and 
" boreh " ointment. 

The Mate jumped up from his deck-chair furi- 
ously. He cursed with an appalling fluency the watch, 
the place, the women. The rest of us lay perfectly still. 
It was the Mate's business, and we waited to see how 
he would handle it. All one could make out was the 
white teeth and conjunctiv£e of the dim figures, the 
smell of ylang-ylang and cocoanut-oil, the jingle of the 
bangles as the women danced round the deck dodging the 
Mate's rushes, and the shrill, monotonous sound of their 
voices singing, " Ning ning no nae. Ning ning no nae." 

With a shout the watch came tumbling back to his 
duty, and the Mate and he soon hustled two of them 
down the ladder again, but meanwhile the rest had 
scattered all over the decks, and were lost in the dark- 
ness, where it was impossible to chase them. 

" What will he do ? " I said to the Chief, feeling like 
a spectator at a play. 

" Give it up as a bad job," said the Chief com- 
fortably. " As long as they don't get down to our 
cabins and steal things it's all right. They'll soon 
tire, and go away with anything the Chinks want to 
smuggle ashore. That's their main object in coming 
aboard." 

But the Mate was cleverer than that. He went down 
the gangway like lightning. The men in the sampan 

253 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

saw him, but he had hold of the boat before they could 
push off. 

" I'll swamp you if you don't call them off, d — n 
you," he shouted furiously, while we hung over the 
rail watching. 

It was evident they understood what he meant, 
even if they knew no English, and an unintelligible 
shouting soon brought heads in sight along the gunwale. 
A rapid interchange of conversation followed, while the 
Mate hung on grimly, and, seeing it was no use, soon the 
boat was filled again, and the ladies, in no way dis- 
couraged by their reception, with a sound of much 
chattering, glided of^ into the night. 

The watch was exceedingly apologetic, but with a 
curt word or two the Mate ordered him to keep a better 
look-out in future. Then he relapsed into his chair 
as if nothing had happened. 

" That's the last of them this voyage," he said. 
" I don't think they'll try this ship again." 

" It's an old dodge in the Malay Archipelago," said 
the Chief. " Thirty years ago we'd have had our 
throats slit, if we'd been surprised like this," he added 
cheerfully. " Let's have a game of bridge. Doc." 

It must have been almost ten o'clock before we finished 
the second rubber, by the light of the Chief's oil-lamp, 
the electric light not being on, as we were not working 
cargo. The Mate yawned cavernously. 

" Guess I'll turn in," he said. 

" Me, too," I added ; and so we stumbled out in the 
darkness along the alley -way to our cabins on the star- 
board side. 

The Mate was in front of me. 

" What's that ? " he said. 

We listened, and a faint rustling came to us from the 
far end of the alley-way, next my cabin. I put my hand 
254. 



^ 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

to the switch mechanically before remembering the 
lights were off. Again the sound came, a faint rustling 
as of a woman's garments. With a smothered oath the 
Mate swung down the alley -way. It was pitch-dark. 
Then his voice came back : 

" Look out. Doc. She's dodged me." 

I stooped, and, tackling low, in the old Rugby manner, 
in the darkness, caught a sinuous, panting, soft young 
body, that wriggled for a moment in my arms, and 
then was still. The heavy ylang-ylang scent was 
almost overpowering ; her multitudinous bangles rattled 
as she moved slightly in the darkness. I could hear 
her rapid breathing close to me in the gloom. 

The Mate struck a match, and the whites of her 
frightened eyes, her teeth, and the little white corded 
silk jacket she wore flashed distinct above the brown 
outlines of her body. 

" She's been in your cabin. Doc," he said grimly. 
" Hadn't we better search her ? " 

" Let's look in the room first," I suggested. " Most 
of my things are locked up." 

" That d d watch ought to be put in irons for 

letting them on board again. By , I'll make it hot 

for him," he said fiercely. 

We drew her along, unresisting, to my cabin. With 
relief I saw that nothing had been disturbed, so I did 
not feel compelled to search her. The Mate swore 
vehemently all the time, holding on to her, but I noticed 
he was very gentle all the same. The girl spoke never 
a word. We hurried her on deck and over to the gang- 
way. The watch was standing rigidly on duty. He 
stared stupidly at the apparition when we appeared. 
To the Mate's vituperation he answered with evident 
sincerity : 

" I can take my Davy, sir, not a soul 'as come up 

255 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

this 'ere ladder since eight o'clock, barrin' the Second 
Officer." 

To strengthen his statement we found that there was 
no sign of any sampan near the ladder. All the same, 
we sent the woman down to the bottom of the gangway, 
with orders to the watch not to permit her to re-ascend ; 
and then started on a tour of the ship to find out how 
we had been boarded. It was simplicity itself. After 
pulling off in the darkness they had rounded the stern, 
and there on the port side, aft, some one, probably a 
Chinaman, had slung over a convenient rope. By 
means of this and their prehensile toes, getting aboard 
was as easy as falling off a log. Thus the Mate had been 
completely out-generalled, and no doubt the Chinamen 
had been able to smuggle ashore the opium they had 
been bringing quite at their leisure. As we came down 
the ladder to the main deck aft we saw two dim figures, 
faintly silhouetted, climbing over the gunwale, and the 
rope still vibrated when we got to it. There was a faint 
sound of muffled oars in the night, and when we returned 
to the gangway the little solitary figure too had gone, 
picked up by the unseen sampan. 

" Good riddance of bad rubbish," snorted the Mate. 

I remembered, however, that she had beautiful brown 
eyes. Afterwards I discovered she had managed to 
secrete one of my folding silk Japanese fans somewhere 
in the depths of her kabaya, and so came to the 
conclusion that perhaps after all the Mate was right. 

The Javanese merchant has not the picturesque 
stock-in-trade of his Japanese counterpart. There is 
very little in the way of native goods to be bought. 
They used to come aboard with their wares in square 
baskets of coarse matting, tied with a bandana handker- 
chief, sailor fashion. When they offered anything for 
256 




CIIIXKSE TEMl'LE, MACASSAl; 




RO(.)F OF THE CHIXESE TEJIl'LE, MACASSAR 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

sale they squatted in the " dodok " fashion, sitting 
on their heels, as inferiors do in the presence of the 
rajah. Of native goods, beautiful plaited mats, straw 
hats made as fine as a panama of rattan filaments, 
cigars, native jewellery, brass betel -boxes, and swords 
were what one saw mostly. The Malay sword, or 
" kris," is a murderous-looking weapon with a beauti- 
fully carved handle and a wriggly blade made of 
alternate layers of hard and soft metal, the soft layers 
eaten into lines by lime-juice and arsenic. This weapon 
they wear behind, concealed in a fold of the sarong, 
ready for immediate use, night or day. 

Quite good cheroots could be bought for tenpence a 
hundred, but they were very strong, and could only be 
smoked in the Tropics. We bought a lot of Manila 
cigars on the morning after our night adventure, and 
then as Jimi came on board, smiling, and wanting to 
know if he were needed, the Chief and I decided to pay 
visits to the other ships of our company. On one of 
these I found a doctor who had been a fellow student 
of mine, and had disappeared from every one's ken for 
five years. 

" Yes, I've been at it ever since," he said. " Can't 
help it now. I'm used to it, I'm miserable and chilly 
in England. I know everybody worth knowing in Java. 
I'm a member of all the clubs in every port. All my 
friends are here. I'd be no use in a shore billet now." 
He was silent for a moment and then continued : 
" You chuck it, old man, after this voyage, or you're 
done for. The fascination of it will get hold of you. 
Chuck it, if you want to do any good. I can't now. 
Have another drink ? " 

He asked me eagerly about old " pals " : What was 
So-and-so doing ? — Where was So-and-so ?— Was So- 
and-so married yet ? 

E 257 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

I could not get away from him once he was started. 
We talked about the old times, the never-to-be-for- 
gotten times, when we were undergrads together. 

" Yes, yes. These fellows are a very decent crowd. 
I've sailed with the same captain for two years now ; 
but sailors, you know, are not like your old pals — 
very decent fellows, but not " 

I think seeing me somehow made him feel the years 
that the locust had eaten. 

" Fever ! Oh, yes ! I know all about the fever. Had 
it myself. Wrote a thesis on it once, but never 
presented it. Thought it wasn't good enough. Mind 
you, there's a lot to be done on Java fever. Have 
another drink ? What, no ? Oh, yes, you will, just 
for company. Steward ! Steward ! " 

The almond-eyed Chinese steward came silently to the 
cabin door. 

" Two more iced lagers." 

The steward nodded silently. " I savvy," he said. 



Next day I began to think I must have a special knack 
of discovering derelicts, but later on I found that other 
people had had the same impression too, and so came 
to the conclusion that perhaps it is only when one 
happens to get to the out-places of the world that one 
comes across them. 

We were shipping molasses in great tubs, much to the 
disgust of the Mate. 

"Can't think what the company's up to," he said. 
" Half the muck will leak out, and it'll have to be 
pumped from the holds in Liverpool — ^beastly, sticky, 
filthy stuff. We never shipped it before, and I hope to 
goodness we never shall again." 

It certainly was filthy. It leaked from the tubs 
258 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

when it was being raised from the lighters, and trickled 
down the ship's side. I had to screw up my port-holes 
hermetically to keep it out of my cabin. The decks 
too were sticky with it. 

An exceedingly active shipping master was in charge 
of the coolies who were putting it aboard. His beautiful 
white ducks were filthy with brown stains. 

" That's the most active fellow for a Dutchman I've 
ever seen," said the Chief casually to me. 

He overheard the remark, and turned on the surprised 
Chief. 

" Dutchman ! I'm no Dutchman," he said trucu- 
lently. " I'm an Irishman, and I don't care a d — n 
who knows it." 

" So am I," said the Chief placidly. " Shake," 
They shook. 

" So am I," I echoed, and we shook again. 

He turned out to be an exceedingly charming fellow. 
To ourselves then, and afterwards, the Chief and I 
always called him the "Treacle Man," for we never 
knew his real name. 

He had been everywhere — Australia, South America, 
South Africa in the war, with De Beers as an engineer, 
in India, Singapore, in Batavia, and here. He could 
speak Dutch like a Dutchman, and had a fluent flow of 
vituperative Malay. There was a big scar over his 
forehead got at the siege of Kimberley. He was ob- 
viously a gentleman. 

The Chief lent him a clean suit to go ashore in, and in 
return, when he discovered we were pestered by mos- 
quitoes at night, he next day appeared with a dozen 
of what he called " Japanese stinkers," burning one of 
which in one's cabin completely cleared it of mosquitoes. 
Though they did not bite me, the sizzling noise of them 
was most annoying when I wanted to sleep, and so it 

259 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

was quite as much a relief to me as to the others to find 
the " stinkers " worked hke a charm. 

We tried them that night, and were so pleased with 
the result that we asked him specially to breakfast next 
morning. 

It was in a moment of expansion then that he said, 
" Fancy taking me for a Dutchman ! I was born in 
a little place I don't suppose any of you ever heard of." 

" Where ? " said the Chief. 

He mentioned the place, and, with a start, before I 
had taken time to consider, I said, " But I was born 
there too." 

Then he shut up like a clam. There were no more 
confidences. I fancied even that he tried to avoid me 
at first, fearing I might question him. Still, he was 
very pleasant. I got the Chief to ask him his name. 
He gave one that had never been heard of in the place ; 
so I said, " Don't bother him about it." After all, 
it was his affair. We heard things about him, and all 
of them to his credit. There was a story about a Dutch 
girl (perhaps I should have mentioned that he was 
very good-looking) — it was almost an idyll. I should 
like to tell that story some day with all the local colour- 
ing. At the time it made m.e feel choky. As I have 
said, we called him the " Treacle Man " to ourselves 
for months afterwards, wondered who he was, what 
he was doing, how he was getting on. He had the knack 
of impressing himself on one's memory. 

That night I saw a kind of fishing that was new to me. 
It was the Mate who first drew my attention to it as we 
were sitting in the dark on deck at night. There were a 
number of sampans moving about in the calm water of 
the bay, each with a very bright light hung over the 
bow almost touching the water. One came close to 
260 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

the ship, and then we saw that in the bow one man was 
standing with a poised trident in his hand, whilst another, 
aft, held a square landing-net on the end of a long pole 
half buried in the water. The boat was allowed to glide 
almost at its own will, and the bright light shone clearly 
on the water, sharply outlining the long sampan and 
the tense figures of the expectant fishermen. It was 
the light that drew the fish, and when one appeared 
it was skilfully speared by the man in the bow. The 
net was then brought under it by his companion in the 
stern, and another struggling glistening fish added to 
the increasing heap already in the bottom of the sampan. 
It was a parable on the danger of curiosity 

The Mate had been right when he said they wouldn't 
know what to do with us when they got us to Java ; 
and so a crop of rumours used to arrive daily with the 
" Old Man " as to our next destination : TJilitjap on 
the south coast through the Straits of Bali, Batavia 
for orders, Samarang, Cheribon, Deli in Sumatra, all 
had their moments. 

At length we gave up bothering about our destination. 

" The agents don't know themselves, so it's no use 
our worrying," said the Chief. " I want to go to 
Macassar, but it's hardly likely we'll be sent back there, 
as we passed it on the way down." 

As our stay was so uncertain, we determined to make 
the most of the time we had, and so we went ashore 
nearly every night. One evening a little Dutchman 
asked the Chief and myself up to his place. He had a 
pale little wife, who dressed in the house, as most of 
the Dutchwomen do, native fashion, in a white jacket, 
sarong, and sandals. In the verandah he had rigged 
up a gramophone, and there we sat in the torrid air 
listening to the music it brayed forth. In the dusty 

261 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

road outside a crowd of Malays had gathered to listen. 
We could only see the whites of their eyes as they stood 
immobile in the sweltering night. One of the tunes, 
I remember, was "My Irish Molly, O," and I have 
often wondered what they made of it all. 

Afterwards we drove up to the centre of the city, 
and sat in the open-air cafes in front of the hotels, 
amongst the close-cropped Dutchmen. Every one was 
out promenading in the brilliantly lighted square where 
the Simpang Club, the Hellendoron, and Grimm's Hotel 
stood. 

Social life in Java begins after sunset. During the 
day the heat is so enervating that even activity of mind, 
not to mention body, is somewhat of a strain. But 
with sunset comes a welcome coolness, the ladies put 
aside the native costumes they have been wearing 
during the day and array themselves in the latest Pari- 
sian modes, the men don official uniform, and " At 
Homes," " musicales," dances, or dining-out fill up the 
evening. 

At the little marble tables outside Grimm's Hotel we 
found ourselves seated, like many others, watching the 
white-robed crowd promenading up and down under 
the brilliant glare of the electric light. It was a courtly 
kaleidoscopic crowd, the subdued music of the band, 
the uniforms of the numerous officers, the splendid 
toilettes of some of the ladies, making for an air of 
European gaiety that continually clashed with the 
presence of the purely exotic, all -pervasive, silent -footed 
Malay waiters, moving around continuously supplying 
the material wants of the spectators, and the dark faces 
of the turbaned coachmen and grooms, who stood beside 
the splendid waiting carriages in the background. 

After an interval the Chief and I suddenly tired of 
it all, feeling that the pathetic earnestness of the attempt 
262 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

to represent home amongst these exiles was iiot in 
keeping with our mood. 

Quietly we wandered off at random into the dark- 
ness of a side street, and there we quite accidentally 
came across a Javanese theatre. Then the feeling of 
loneliness left us. We were no longer exiles playing 
at make-believe, we were curious sightseers looking 
upon a profoundly interesting product of the country 
we were travelling in, and the effect on our spirits was 
immediate. 

Witnessing the performance of the *' Wayang " 
marked, in addition, a change in our attitude of mind 
towards the people whose national character had evolved 
it ; for one is apt to look upon the Malay, in spite of his 
intelligence and his exquisite courtesy of manner, as 
of a race on a vastly lower intellectual scale than our 
own, so much do the external material things of civilisa- 
tion — clothes, buildings, the impedimenta of scientific 
accessories — colour one's ideas of comparative anthro- 
pological position. The " Wayang " made this com- 
fortable philosophy impossible, for it forced us to see 
that we were not dealing with a race emerging from 
illiteracy, but rather with one with the records of a 
great and ancient, almost forgotten civilisation behind 
it, a civilisation which had suffered an eclipse, but never- 
theless had left its impress upon the people, and caused 
them to retain an enormously unsuspected proportion 
of the instincts developed under its never-forgotten 
traditions. 

There are two main varieties of national play extant 
in Java, the " Wayang-wayang " (Wayang-poera) and 
the "Topeng." 

The " Topeng " is played by actors disguised in 
hideous emblematic masks, but it is the " Wayang- 
poera " which is most characteristic of, and most 

263 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

beloved by, this intensely susceptible and highly artistic 
race. To the English mind it may be described as an 
elaborate — most elaborate — combination of a " Punch 
and Judy " show and a shadowgraph, for all the actors 
on the stage are puppets. In front of the miniature 
stage is the " Gamelan " or native orchestra. This 
" Gamelan " is characteristic of the Malay people. 
It consists of about a dozen performers. The most 
striking instruments are a number of bells, shaped like 
round pudding-dishes with covers. In addition there 
are usually one or two tom-toms, a Persian viol (rebab), 
a zithera, and one or two reed-like flutes. The music is 
curiously melancholy and disturbing. There is a feeling 
that it is the elemental music of the world, a music 
known and loved in forgotten seons before the present 
incarnation came to blur one's memory of its subtle- 
ties. Following the overture come the women dancers. 
They glide in, clothed in the shimmering traditional 
costumes of ancient Java before the Mohammedan 
conquest, tiara-crowned, multi-jewelled, their gorgeous 
trailing robes caught at the waist with a silver buckle, 
their shoulders bare and scented with boreh, their soft 
round arms and slender fingers a mass of bracelets and 
jewelled rings. The dance is a series of slow graceful 
posturings and swaying movements of the arms and 
body, like the bendings of the young bamboo before the 
wind, or the rice-fields swaying beneath the sunny 
autumn zephyrs. All the while they dance, a singing 
monotone kept up around explains the meaning of 
their movements. This is the prologue to the play. 

The stage is a simple screen of white battak cloth 
with a soft banana stem in front into which the sharp 
ends of the puppets are fixed. The puppets themselves 
are elaborately cut and gilded figures, all presented in 
profile, each characteristic of some person or thing, 
2G4, 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

and all recognised and capable of being named by the 
audience. A light is so arranged that tlie shadow of 
the figures is cast upon the screen, and by immemorial 
custom the men sit in front and look ot the puppets, 
whilst the women sitting behind see only the shadows. 
In the centre of the screen is a dome-shaped conventional 
representation of a hill. This is the " Gunungen," and 
it represents the idea of locality, a hill, a palace, a river, 
anything mentioned in the play, the Javanese mind 
accepting it as an abstract reminder of the idea of place 
without difficulty. In addition to the figures there are 
miniature swords, spears, chariots, horses, and all the 
other paraphernalia of life, each carefully and elaborately 
accurate. 

The puppets are manipulated entirely by the 
" Dalang," or manager, who must be a protean artist. He 
has to recite all the dialogue, some of it in " Kawi " 
(ancient Javanese) ; he must know all the intricacies of 
court etiquette, and forms of etiquette are more elaborate 
and more stereotyped amongst the Javanese than even 
in Japan ; he conducts the " Gamelan," and regulates 
the dancing. As these plays sometimes last a fort- 
night his memory must be prodigious. In addition he 
must be able to improvise poetry to suit any situation, 
and occasionally enliven the play by witty topical 
remarks. It is obvious then that to become a good 
" Dalang " requires years of careful training, and but 
few can hope to aspire to the position. As a consequence, 
therefore, the " Dalang " is held in almost regal honour, 
native rajahs vie with one another for his presence, 
his triumphal progress through the country is like that 
of a sultan, the common people almost worship him. 
He pays no taxes, has all his wants provided for without 
the asking, and holds a position the greatest man of 
letters in this country might envy. 

265 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

To understand the plays requires a minute knowledge 
of Hindoo mythology. What we saw that night was 
an episode in the great drama portraying the fight 
between the Titans and the Gods, a story which occurs 
in each of the classic religions, Hindoo, Greek, Semitic, 
and one which appears to be a great favourite with the 
Javanese. 

The episodes were interminable. The play had been 
going on for some days, and would be continued all the 
rest of the week. The people sat enthralled as the 
" Dalang " intoned the high-sounding eloquence of the 
heroes in love, in war, in triumph, and in defeat. 

" I'd rather have the ' Topeng,' " said the Chief with 
a yawn ; " it's much funnier to an outsider." 

Driving back in the purple night under the multi- 
tudinous stars, we fell into a silence of mutual content, 
in keeping with the stillness of the world around. The 
air was slumbrous with the scent of unseen exotic 
flowers. Not a leaf stirred. Occasionally we passed 
silent groups of natives around a brazier, a face, an 
arm, a turban showing fiery-red in the half-revealing 
glare of the glowing charcoal. 

Once a hoarse challenge echoed to us in the night, 
and turning to look, we saw the dim shadow of a hut, 
with two sentinel figures, standing erect, holding what 
looked like gigantic catapults against their right 
shoulders. The driver answered in an unintelligible 
melodious cry, and we passed on unchecked. They 
were the night watchmen calling to know the fare and 
destination of the driver, and the catapults were long 
forked poles with which they could chase evildoers and 
pin them against a tree or wall. 

Smoothly the big comfortable carriage rolled on 
behind the two little sandal-wood ponies that drew it, 
and gradually we became more and more somnolent. 
266 



JAVA : AT SOERABAYA 

It was therefore with quite a start that we found our- 
selves abruptly stopping at the landing-stage. 

The water was a mass of phosphorescence, the riding 
lights of the ships looked like low-lying comfortable 
stars. To our call in the night there came an answering 
cry : " Heah ! Tuan, Commin ! " and we could hear 
first the sound of wood upon wood, and then the splash 
of sampan oars as Jimi glided like a shadow to the steps. 

Presently with swift, sweeping strokes we were heading 
for the ship, and sleep. 

On Friday morning we were ordered to be ready to 
sail for Samarang at five o'clock. This was altered to 
six o'clock on Saturday for Batavia, and finally to 
four o'clock on Sunday for Macassar. 

" Macassar," said the Chief. " Hooray ! " 

Every one was delighted. Up went the " Blue Peter '* 
on Saturday afternoon, and the rest of the evening was 
spent in a mad rush round the city buying things, 
finishing up by having supper in an Indian restaurant, 
where we ate all sorts of curious " chow," and found 
at the end that everything we had left of each course 
had been carefully kept, wrapped in paper, and gathered 
together to be presented to us when we were departing. 
Jimi got the parcel, to his huge delight, and so we 
had not to offend the susceptibilities of our host by 
rejecting it. 

The length of our stay in port had by this time made 
us all very hard up ; most of us had overdrawn our pay, 
and no one had the courage to corner the " Old Man '* 
for another advance. Getting to a new port, however, 
would be a colourable excuse for approaching him again, 
and so it was with huge delight that on the Sunday we 
pulled down the " Blue Peter " at noon, and steamed 
slowly out of the roadstead. 

267 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The " Treacle Man " shouted farewell from his 
launch ; a party of eighteen people whom the " Old 
Man " had had to breakfast raised a cheer from their 
tender ; Jimi, resplendent in a cast-off white suit of 
mine, grinned from ear to ear from his sampan ; and we 
were off. 

It was grand to be rid of mosquitoes, to be clear of 
the sweltering heat, to feel the cool sea-breeze sweeping 
over the decks again. 

The Third Officer, pyjama-clad, grinned cheerfully 
at me from the edge of his bunk, from which he had 
swept his mosquito-net. 

" I'm sorry for the poor people ashore," he said. 

" After all, there's nothing like being at sea," I 
answered. 



268 



CHAPTER IX 

MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

Concerning antimacassars : How the rajah made his exit 
from this world : In praise of lager : How the Dutch lieu- 
tenant spent hia furlough : Bargaining for mats : How the 
Chief succumbed to the fascinations of Yuki i A divarication 
on Malays, crocodiles, and goats : The invasion of the copra- 
bug : "Bugis" praus, dried fish, and "hocshu" : Duriens : 
The arrival of the dealers in pearls : How we left the 
hides behind 



CHAPTER IX 

We were bound for Macassar. Dim recollections of short 
legs dangling from a chair in a many-a-year-forgotten 
drawing-room, and of a fearful thing of crochet-work 
that would keep slipping down, stirred at the sound 
of it. 

Going there, ridden by this obsession, I found it 
difficult to associate the name with anything like a 
definite geographical place ; now, looking back, my 
mind crowds with rainbow recollections that are too 
evanescent for mere words, leaving, as it were, a lingering 
savour of sweet things on memory's palate, too subtly 
ethereal for concrete expression. 

Macassar is the main seaport of Celebes. There is 
deep water right up to the wharf, but it is surrounded 
on all sides by numbers of little islands, atolls, and 
coral reefs, so that there is only one good channel 
running north and south. 

To reach port we had to retrace our steps a little, 
as we had passed it on the way down from Japan — ■ 
too far out, however, for any sight of land. Returning 
then, we greeted Hastings Island as an old friend when 
it once more rose above the horizon ; but it was not 
till " six bells " (7 a.m.) on the Monday morning 
that they called me, saying port was in sight. 

Sailors and Swiss peasants do not rhapsodise on 
scenery, but deep down somewhere the sailor, at any 
rate, has an inarticulate understanding, and every one 

271 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

on the ship, I noticed, had been glad when we got the 
orders for Macassar. 

Looking at the panorama as it unfolded itself to me 
that beautiful clear morning, I think I understood why 
they liked it so much, for the approach to Macassar 
is one of the faery visions of the world, and years after 
the inward eye can ruminate on it and return anew. 

Imagine to port an opal sea, pellucid, mirror- 
like, studded with a thousand little atolls, each with 
its silvery beach and fringe of dark green palm trees, 
smiling under a sky of purest ultramarine shading 
gradually to a pearly-grey as it touched the horizon. 
Landward the silver shore ran sinuous in little sparkling 
bays and inlets, fringed, far as the eye could see, with 
feathery groves of slender cocoanuts, backed by serrated 
blue mountains shimmering in the hinterland. 

Gradually as we approached native huts could be 
made out, nestling amongst the njamplong trees, each 
house a framework of bamboo standing on props, with 
walls of latticed yellow rattan, and dark brown palm- 
thatched roofs. Dilapidated boat slips, a patchwork 
of blistered stakes and warped tinder-like planks, ran 
up to some of the stilted huts projecting into the water, 
and sampans and dug-outs, some with, some without 
outriggers, lay bleaching on the strand, just beyond 
the lazy ripples. 

On the intervening water other fishing praus were 
shooting about, with their peculiar-looking lozenge- 
shaped " bugis " sails swelling in the light morning 
zephyrs. A lotus-air of immemorial calm lay over 
everything. 

Then came signs of civilisation — a long white red-tiled 
building close to the shore with a square green behind ; 
next a dazzling black-and-white lighthouse flying the 
Dutch tricolour; nestling beneath it, glistening in the 
272 




FTSHEKMEN'S HUTS OX TTIE SEA-SHOEK, MACASSAK (Seep. 272) 







THE "(»I4) MAN'" AND THE CHIEF AT IfACASSAR (Seep. 274) 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

morning sun, lay a little white jetty for yachts, and then 
the long straight reach of over half a mile of black 
tarred wharf, almost devoid of shipping, with a row of 
yellow bamboo rattan-latticed " go-downs " behind, 
and again behind these the huddled red-tiled roofs of 
the city itself. 

Several river gunboats lay anchored off the pier, 
and from the red-roofed building we had first noticed 
a burst of military music floated to us on the morning 
air. It was a regimental band playing outside the 
officers' mess at breakfast. 

It was quite a pleasant change to be moored alongside 
the wharf — this port, Singapore, Tanjong Priok, and 
Tjilitjap being the only ones in the Far East our large 
ships could get alongside. Everywhere else one always 
required a sampan in and out, and consequently felt 
it was hardly worth while going ashore unless one had 
the whole day free. Here, on the contrary, one could 
go off for half an hour before breakfast, come back, 
run ashore again for ten minutes to get something 
before lunch, or go off for the entire day, with equal 
facility. 

We were moored before breakfast, and so shortly 
after, before it grew hot, I strolled ashore to get the lie 
of the city. 

It consisted for the most part of three long narrow 
streets, parallel to one another and also to the shore. 
That next the sea was the main business street, but, 
instead of the first row of houses facing the sea, they had 
their backs to it, some of them even projecting out on 
props into the water, whilst their fronts faced on to the 
street. 

The shops were of the usual bazaar type found all 
over the East — shops for buttons and cheap jewellery, 

s a73 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

sarong stores, shops selling basket-work, mats, odds 
and ends of ironware, fruits, carved sticks and kris 
heads, &c. &c. At the far end the street dwindled 
into the open country ; at the near end there were a 
number of European stores owned by Dutchmen and 
Paranaks. At this end also the main street opened 
on to a gravel-strewn square (Prins Henrik Plein), 
surrounded by a line of beautiful waringen trees. This 
square, with the shady road leading from its inner side, 
formed the Rotten Row of Macassar. The Club — the 
" Societat Harmonic " — was in it, and opposite the 
Club was the bandstand. The Governor's palace, the 
military cantonment, the residences of the big Govern- 
ment officials were close by. The two principal hotels 
were also near. Obviously the square was the centre 
of life. 

After " tiffin " the British Consul called on us, and 
arranged to have the " Old Man," the Chief, and myself 
made temporary members of the Club. 

" That's all right," said the Chief. " They keep the 
best iced lager in the East, and one gets it at half the 
hotel prices — that means something in a country where 
iced drinks are a necessity, not a luxury." 

In the afternoon we hired a carriage, and the " Old 
Man," the Chief, and I drove out into the country. 
It was a typical Malay scene. The rice-fields were 
brown and fallow, with here and there the bare expanse 
relieved by a tope of lofty palms sheltering a few brown 
native huts, and ever in the background the mountains 
of a marvellous blue. Every now and again we would 
come across a group of fearsome huge horned buffaloes 
rolling in the shallow mud pools, or being driven along 
the paddy tracks by diminutive naked boys, who 
rode on their backs and belaboured their tough hides 
with rattans, accompanying each stroke with shrill 
274 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

vituperations, both of which the animals received with 
the ruminating stare of perfect indifference. 

" It looks very quiet and peaceful, doesn't it ? " said 
the " Old Man." " But out there in the mountains 
there's fighting going on. The Dutch have got a little 
war on. They've killed the old rajah." 

" Not the old fellow we saw last voyage ! " said the 
Chief. " I thought he was a perfectly harmless old 
stick." 

" Yes, he wasn't a bad old fellow," replied the " Old 
Man." " I've known him off and on for years. He 
took a great fancy to a map of the world I brought the 
Consul. It had all the British possessions coloured red, 
and he was heart-broken when the Consul refused to 
let him have it. I think he went as far as to offer him 
one of his wives for it. He could afford to, as he had 
forty of them." 

" But how did he get killed ? " I said. 

" Sheer foolishness. He was quite content to go on 
as he was, but some of the young bloods of sons weren't. 
They raised trouble — knifed a sergeant or something — 
had to fly, and started a rebellion in the interior. It 
was a failure because they had not the authority of the 
rajah, so they had to induce the poor old fellow to 
give them his physical as well as moral support by 
flying from Macassar. They got him to do it eventually 
by working on his fears as to his own personal safety 
now his subjects were in rebellion. So the rajah fled 
with his harem. It was the harem spoiled it. They 
were pursued and captured, of course. The rajah 
managed to escape in the confusion, but was shot 
accidentally in a nullah in the pursuit. Nobody wanted 
to hurt him. It was quite an accident. They wanted 
to bring him back, but he's as dead as salt pork now. 
His eldest son has proclaimed himself rajah, and now 

275 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

he is kicking up the devil in the interior, burning 
villages and torturing people in the good old Malay 
fashion." 

" So that was why the Consul warned us not to go 
out too far ? " I said. 

" Yes. They're sniping quite close to the town," he 
answered. 

" I feel sort of sorry he's dead," said the Chief. 

" Oh, I dunno," said the " Old Man." " He was a 
pretty tough old ruffian when he liked.* I remember 
when I paid him a state visit some years ago he had a 
Hindoo interpreter, whom I tipped a couple of guilders 
when I left. Going back to find my gloves, which I 
had left behind, what did I see but the rajah on the 
top of the unfortunate man, guzzling him on the floor 
till he compelled him to fork out the two guilders." 

On the way back, just before we got into the square, 
we passed the Governor's palace, a fine building with 
a courtyard in front, in which were a couple of very 
ornamental cannon, once the property of the Sultan 
of Goa. Around were the houses of some of the more 
important Government officials, the two principal 
hotels, and the church. 

When a Dutchman leaves his beloved " Warmoe- 
straat " to go East, he does so with the lofty ambition 
of having a good time and making himself as comfortable 
as the climate will permit. He does not j^earn to elevate 
the native to the bomb-throwing standard of British 
India. He is quite content to leave him alone, and 
the native is perfectly happy to be left to enjoy his 
betel-chewing lethargy according to the immemorial 
customs of his fathers. For his Dutch rulers he has 
the profound contempt which every true son of the 
Prophet bestows on the infidel ; his intelligence is not 
disturbed by the leaven of discontent stirred up by the 
276 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

average missionary ; and so the Dutchman waxes fat and 
comfortable, and the Malay multiplies exceedingly in 
a land so fruitful that one day's work supplies food for 
a month. What more could one possibly want ? 

The Dutchman has his beer sent out, packed care- 
fully in ice, from Amsterdam, so that it never has a 
chance to get warm. His tobacco he grows himself 
or imports from Manila. His house is large and spacious, 
marble-floored, marble-walled, with a great white 
portico built like a Grecian temple, embowered in 
luxuriant palms, Madagascar flame trees, and gor- 
geously coloured vines. The cool evening breeze 
sweeps through the whole house, screened off into 
chambers only by hanging bead-net or rattan curtains. 
With the lamps lit at night in the great white portico, 
which serves as drawing-room, dining-room, smoke- 
room, and lounge, each villa looks like a sparkling 
jewel set in a frame of jet as one passes in the darkness. 
When the lights are lit any one is at liberty to call; 
but when they are out Mynheer is " not at home," and 
lies in his cane lounge in the cool darkness, and smokes 
contentedly in deshabille, knowing he is free from 
visitors. 

Hospitality does not consist in dinners, but in " musi- 
cales " ; and there are fine native bands in every 
station. In every town there is a magnificent Club, 
subsidised by the Government, and weekly concerts 
are given all the year round. 

In material things and in the running of colonies we 
might learn a lot from the Dutch. Java has been a 
gold-mine to them. When we had it we threw it away 
like a rotten orange, and incidentally broke the heart 
of the greatest man England has ever given to the Far 
East — Sir Staniford Raffles, the founder of Singapore, 
• • • * • 

277 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

The Dutch colonial house is built essentially to suit 
the requirements of a hot climate. It is a triumph of 
architecture because it is not only eminently suitable 
for the purpose it is designed to meet, but also at the 
same time manages to be beautiful to the eye. 

Nothing, I think, struck me so much in the Far East 
as the extreme beauty of the Dutch colonial home, 
coming as it did as a complete surprise to find it amongst 
these eminently practical people. 

Its appearance irresistibly reminds one of the classic 
architecture of ancient Greece, of Rome in the golden 
era of the first Emperors. 

In the front of the house is a marble-floored loggia, 
approached by one or two broad flights of steps, and 
supported by tall white Doric columns. In the centre 
of the loggia is a doorway, always open, which leads 
into an inner marble hall, opening out of which are 
numerous bedrooms. The further end of the hall opens 
into yet another loggia at the back of the house, larger 
and more imposing than that at the front. It is in 
this that most of the meals are taken and the long hot 
hours spent. 

All around the house is a wide sweeping verandah, 
keeping o:K the hot rays of the sun during the day, 
and sheltering one also during the seasons of torrential 
rain. There are no punkahs in Java or Celebes. 

Behind the house is a garden compound, surrounded 
on three sides by the servants' quarters, the bath- 
rooms, kitchen, stables, &c. Connected with the main 
building by a covered portico is the all-important, 
in Colonial eyes, pavilion known as the " guest 
quarters," for hospitality is, in these countries where 
white men are so few, an exceedingly pleasurable 
virtue. 

All one's meals are taken in the open air, an experience 
2TS 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

which the new-comer finds rather embarrassing at first, 
owing to the feeling that invisible eyes may be watching 
him all the time, but one which he soon gets accustomed 
to when he acquires the feeling that natives are no 
more to be regarded than the furniture around, or the 
footmen or maids who wait upon him at home. The 
marble floors are not for display, but comfort. They 
are not carpeted — again for coolness' sake — but occasional 
mats or rugs are sometimes spread upon their snowy 
whiteness. The chairs too are always cane-bottomed ; 
and no one can realise how much these apparently 
trivial details make for ease until he has sat on an 
upholstered sofa or in a room with carpets in such a 
climate, and felt the insufferable stuffiness of the 
difference. 

The bath-room is probably the second most impor- 
tant room in the house. It, too, is marble-floored, 
with plain white-washed walls. It is windowless, save 
for a little grating over the door, and, standing on the 
cool white floor, one sluices the icy water over one's 
weary, heated body, till a feeling that all the cares of the 
world have been washed away and a calm content 
comes over one. The bath is almost a fetish in the Far 
East. 

At the Hotel Der Nederlanden the " Old Man " cried 
a halt, and we were exceedingly glad to get out of the 
afternoon glare into the cool shade of the cafe lounge. 
A courteous old Dutch gentleman, smoking lazily, 
talked with us while the ice tinkled in the long glasses. 
There was not a sound in the stillness of the afternoon, 
the leaves of the trees hung motionless. Suddenly 
and unexpectedly, shattering the stillness, there came 
a sound as of two men sawing wood with feverish haste. 
We all looked up. 

" It iss zee cicadas," said the Dutchman placidly. 

27^ 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" He ought to be locked up," said the Chief solemnly. 
" It iss not possible. He iss a beedle," the Dutchman 
explained with unmoved countenance. 

That evening we forgathered at the Club. The 

presence of three river gunboats lent an air of special 

gaiety to the night ; for the officers, loose for a few 

days from the river campaign, were celebrating in the 

Club. One particularly amusing person's only grievance 

was that he had not been able to have a decent bath 

for six months while he was ashore with his contingent 

in the jungly swamp man-hunting. The toil, the 

danger, the heat, the risk of river fever, the chance of 

sudden and violent death, were all in the day's work, 

but not being able to have a bath — ^that was a grievance 

for which he claimed our sympathy. He was quite 

bald-headed, but behaved like an irresponsible boy. 

He had had only two days' leave, and that was up the 

next morning at six o'clock. He and his men, with their 

little flat -bottomed boat and its two spitting Maxims, 

mounted fore and aft, were to be off before we were 

awake in the morning ; but, all the same, he invited me 

to breakfast with him, or invited himself to breakfast 

with me — he was not quite sure which, and I did not 

bother him to explain. 

Anyhow, it appeared we were bosom friends. We were 
playing billiards, as every one does in the East, and the 
tables were of the rockiness invariably found also in the 
East. When he missed he laughed loudly; when any 
one else missed he laughed, if possible, more loudly 
still. I dragged myself away from him at 1 a.m., 
promising all sorts of things at his earnest entreaty. 
In the morning his boat was gone. I could not 
remember his impossible Dutch name. I'm sure he 
didn't know mine. It is vastly unlikely we shall ever 
meet again, but I can see his shining cranium under 
2S0 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

the lamp-light still. I wish I could reproduce the 
vagaries of his English — it was an extraordinary mass of 
unexpectednesses. Sometimes I wonder has he been 
promoted for some piece of cool dare-devilry, or, steaming 
slowly up some river, did he find his quietus from a 
sudden squib-fire from the jungle, as he lay at ease, 
a large white target on the deck of his little boat. Both 
are equally likely. 



After breakfast the next morning the Chief and I 
went shopping in the long main street. One old Malay 
was making kris handles, carving with his hands, and 
holding the wood with his toes. 

Most of the industrial work, however, seemed to be 
done by the Chinese. In a joss-house the boy- 
attendant wanted to sell me a baby crocodile that was 
swimming in a tank, but unfortunately it was too large 
for the accommodation we had on the ship. 

Everywhere one saw the stalls of the itinerant cooks 
and betel merchants. We were particularly struck by 
the way Malays grilled their beef. Each little piece, 
the size and shape of a large button, was run on a 
sliver of bamboo till there were some three or four 
dozen buttons on about half a dozen sticks. Holding 
these in a fan-like manner in one hand over a charcoal 
brazier, the cook grilled them by winnowing the embers 
with a plantain-leaf fan, turning the segments round 
and round as they frizzled. Anything we bought from 
one of these itinerant merchants was wrapped up, not 
in paper, but in a plantain leaf, and fastened, not with 
string, but with a cactus thorn. 

We wandered into a " fan-tan " saloon, where a 
number of Chinamen were indulging the national taste 
for gambling ; and later on found our way into an 

281 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

opium den where a few somnolent figm'es were dreaming 
their lives contentedly away. 

The Chief wanted a wicker chair, such as Hong Kong 
is famous for, and we went into a Chinaman's shop, 
where we picked one and gave him directions where 
to send it. Apparently we did not succeed in quite 
making him understand, for the chair never arrived 
at the ship. However, as it had not been paid for, the 
Chief was much too lazy to go after the man and explain 
anew, and so he never had it. 

Macassar is famous for beautifully plaited mats, and 
we spent probably an hour bargaining for some. The 
shops of the mat-sellers were all together at the far end 
of the town, and we wandered from one to another 
when we found they were asking too much for them. 
No one, however, would sell lower than his neighbours, 
and every one knew what we were offering, as little 
boys ran before us from shop to shop carrying the news. 
At length we gave it up in disgust, and told one man, 
who had some particularly fine ones, that if he wished to 
sell he must bring them to the ship. Eventually that 
was what he did, and there we got them for one half 
of what he had been asking at his shop. Such is trade. 
It was on our way back, close to the ship, that we 
found the Japanese store, and thereafter the Chief was 
lost. 

The little lady who ran it had a fascinating smile, 
coquettish ankles, and sold iced lager at the same price 
as the Club. 

There was a man in the background who wore a billy- 
cock hat with a kimono — a husband, or brother, or 
something. But the Chief didn't worry about that ; 
neither did the little lady; neither, apparently, did 
the man in the billycock hat. As long as the Chief 
drank beer, occasionally bought things, and supplied 
282 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

her with cigarettes, she would sit, cross-legged, smiling 
and dimpling, correcting his faulty Japanese, and 
dimpling again. 

When we wanted him we soon learnt where we could 
find him. He said it was the lager drew him. 

I told Horner, in a mischievous moment, she re- 
minded me of Ponta, and he was over like a shot. He 
declared, however, that she was not in the least like, 
but he went again, and, as he could talk much better 
Japanese than the Chief, soon threatened to cut him 
out. Then the Chief bought more things, and Yuki's 
smiles came back to him again. 

The Third Officer had only been ashore once during 
the voyage — that was in Pinang. All the time we had 
been in Japan and Java he had stuck closely to the 
ship. The reason was that he was going to be married 
at the end of the voyage, and as nothing clears a 
sailor's pockets so quickly as going ashore, he wisely 
decided the ship was the safest place for him. Here, 
however, where we were alongside the wharf, it was 
more difficult to keep on board, and we had ragged the 
Chief so much on his supposed infatuation for Yuki 
that his curiosity was aroused. Accordingly we took 
him over, introduced him, and watched her beginning 
to spread her net to make him buy. There was nothing 
in the shop worth more than a few shillings, but it was 
full of quaint dolls and lanterns, paper toys and useless 
little knick-knacks. We told him some of them would 
come in handy for decorating his walls when he set up 
house, and that here he could get them at one quarter the 
price he would pay in Liverpool. He hesitated, some- 
what doubtful of our blandishments ; then Yuki smiled 
on him, and he was lost. Next the Mate was drawn in, 
and soon the little divan behind the shop became a 
sort of ship's club. Before we left even the '' Old Man " 

283 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

had been added as a customer, departing one day laden 
with things for his children. 

She was a clever little woman, and made us quite 
forget the man in the billycock hat and kimono. 
Probably he knew her cleverness a great deal better 
than we did. 

One day the Chief and I took it into our heads to 
go shooting. We didn't much mind what we shot, 
only the Chief drew the line at monkeys. 

" I shot a monkey once at Tjilitjap," he said. " It 
was only wounded, and it cried like a baby wailing in 
the dark. I could not get at it to put it out of its agony, 
and so it wailed on. It made me feel like a murderer — 
couldn't sleep for a week. No more monkeys for me, 
thank you." 

We hired a dilapidated carriage, and armed with 
shot-guns drove off, calling on our way at the com- 
prador's with a message from the ship. I wanted to 
inspect the inside of a typical Malay hut, and so the 
comprador — a greasy Bengali — took us out into his 
plantation, in the rear of which he kept his native wife 
and family. The cocoanut trees had notches cut in 
them for convenience in climbing, and a boy was sent 
up to pick some fresh ones for milk. Pineapples, 
pumilos, plantains, and duriens were growing in the 
plantation. The native hut was at the far end, and, 
like all Javanese houses, the ground floor, of split 
bamboo, stood on props about five feet above the soil. 
It was approached by a short, roughly constructed 
ladder that led to a narrow verandah which was the 
sitting-room and guest-receiving room of the house. 
Inside was a large apartment almost devoid of furniture, 
cool and shady, light filtering into it through the walls 
of interlaced cane. This was the sleeping room for 
284 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

the whole family, and there was a sort of kitchen tacked 
on behind. The whole building had a high peaked roof, 
thatched with atap leaves. 

The Malay woman scuttled into the kitchen on our 
approach, but two little brown imps, a boy and a girl, 
playing on the verandah, were anything but shy, and 
kept close to us, smiling and laughing, and evidently 
quite accustomed to receive copper coins from visitors, 
judging from the practised way in which they grabbed 
ours. 

Leaving the comprador's, we rattled along the beauti- 
fully shaded roads, stopping whenever we saw any- 
thing strange or cm'ious, till at length we came to a place 
where the road crossed a lake by means of a chain- 
ferry. On the Macassar side the Dutch, always mindful 
of their comfort, had built a " Passagrahan, " or Govern- 
ment rest-house, which was an excellent little cafe- 
restaurant such as one might expect to find on the out- 
skirts of Paris. We noticed, however, that though it 
looked so beautifully suburban, it was loop-holed for 
rifle fire, and placed in such a position as to command 
the approach to the ferry completely. 

It was kept by a half-caste, was beautifully clean, 
and supplied delicious iced lager. The view over the 
lake to the approaching ferry was temptingly cool, and 
some natives in sampans out fishing were looking par- 
ticularly comfortable under their big sugar-loaf hats. 

" For two pins I'd swim across," said the Chief, 
mopping the perspiration from a very red face. 

The proprietor of the " Passagrahan" knew only a little 
English, but the Chief's sweeping movement interpreted 
itself. At any rate, the proprietor smiled grimly, and, 
pointing to what looked like a number of half-submerged 
logs on the near side of the ferry, made a peculiar 
snapping sound with his teeth. 

285 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Crocodiles ? " I said, and he nodded intelligently. 

" Stuff," said the Chief, but all the same his ardour 
had evaporated. 

The big wide ferry-boat had reached our side by now, 
disembarking a bullock-wagon-load of fruit and some 
half dozen natives. 

We decided not to take our carriage over, but to 
tramp on foot in search of anything we could find. A few 
natives hung back till we entered, and then followed us 
gingerly. The windlass began to work and we were 
soon at the other side. 

Close to the landing-stage there was a " worong," 
or native restaurant, a rough open shed where some 
coolies were having their afternoon meal. When we 
stopped to look at them they ceased eating, and glanced 
at one another uneasily. One man stealthily fingered his 
kris. Moving along slowly, we looked on all sides for 
something alive to shoot at. Every time we moved 
there were sounds of soft padding footsteps behind us. 
Every time we stopped the sounds ceased. Looking 
back, then, we noticed a man following us with a gun. 
He had been on the ferry with us, but had studiously 
kept in the background. Squinting behind, I soon 
satisfied myself that he moved when we moved and 
stopped when we stopped, keeping always about a 
hundred yards behind us. Then it dawned on me that 
we were in the disturbed district, and our guns were 
probably a source of anxiety. 

" The poor beggar is afraid to pass us," I said. 

" Let's motion him on," said the Chief. 

We did so, and he passed us slowly, rolling the whites 
of his eyes. 

Neither of us noticed that in a few minutes he was 
lost to sight completely, though the road led straight 
on for miles through the swamp. We trudged on. 
286 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

It was the time of the siesta ; not a sound was to be 
heard, not a single living thing showed. The swamps 
stretched endlessly on either side, the mountains rose 
blue in the far, far distance ahead. 

It was very hot, and we began to repent that we had 
not had the carriage over. Everything was so still, 
we instinctively drew together for mutual company. 
The Chief hummed the air of a music-hall verse almost 
with bravado. 

Then a large white cockatoo flitted across the road 
in front of us into the scrub in the surrounding swamp, 
and that somehow broke the spell of the brooding 
silence. 

" I'm after that," said the Chief. 

" D'ye think this ground will bear your weight ? " I 
said. 

" I'll try it," he said, swinging olf the road. 

I followed him slowly, stepping carefully from clump 
to clump of what looked like firm ground. The bird 
kept persistently beyond range. We followed it further 
and further into the swamp. 

At length it perched on a low shrub about sixty yards 
away. The Chief took a careful aim and fired. Almost 
simultaneously there was a second report on the left, 
and a bush a few yards in front of us v/as rattled as if 
by a shower of hail. 

The bird had tumbled over with a last flutter. The 
Chief looked at me. 

" I wonder was that shot fired at us ?" he said. 

" I wonder," I echoed. 

" Anyway, he's a d d poor shot. Let's get the 

bird," he said. 

" Keep low, then," I suggested. 

We crouched forward to where we thought the bird 
had fallen, but not a sign of it was to be seen. Then 

287 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

we searched all round, keeping a careful look-out for 
any other sportsman, and especially for our friend of 
the shot-gun, but not a sign of either did we see. There 
was neither bird nor human being apparently within 
miles. 

" Perhaps it was a phantom bird ? " I suggested. 

" Intended to lead us ofl[ the track to our death, I 
suppose you mean ? " he queried. 

He looked at me solemnly to see if I was trying to pull 
his leg. Then his eyes twinkled. 

" I don't think that second shot was a ghostly one, at 

any rate, and if I catch sight of that ," he added, 

his anger beginning to rise at the thought of it, now he 
had got over his eagerness to find that bird, " I don't 
think I'd think twice about tryin' to make a ghost of 
him." 

" Possibly he was after the same bird, and it was quite 
an accident. His gun may have gone off in the surprise 
of finding us so near," I suggested. 

" No," he said. " I can't swallow that, Doc." 

" Well, at any rate, you'll agree this place is none too 
healthy for us. Let's get," I said. 

" Right ho," he answered, removing his helmet slowly 
and mopping his brow ; " this is too hot by far for my 
comfort." 

We made our way back to the road, and turned again 
for the ferry. It was stiflingly hot. Before we got in 
sight of the lake we were both almost melted. Beads 
of sweat kept dripping off our eyebrows, our clothes 
stuck to us, and the distant vision of the " Passagrahan " 
across the feri'y was a welcome sight. 

But the Chief was still thirsting for something to kill. 
He grumbled all the way about losing that cockatoo. 

" Why not have a pot at the crocodiles ? " I suggested. 

We were in mid-stream at the time, but when we 
288 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

tapped the barrels of our guns and pointed to the 
inanimate crocodiles, the ferryman understood, grinned 
expansively, and stopped the boat. 

The range was about eighty yards, and even if we 
hit them we were not in the least likely to do them 
any harm. Still, they were living targets, and we 
satisfied our thirst for letting off things by plugging at 
them. As a result three of them were sufficiently 
annoyed to move lazily under water. 

On the way back to the ship we passed a Chinese 
graveyard, with its curious cupola-like head-stones, so 
like the plastered brick domes one sometimes sees over 
wells in the country near out-of-the-way villages. As 
we were passing, a little kid of about a month old ran 
bleating across the road looking for its mother. As 
soon as he saw it an intense desire to have it as a ship's 
pet entered the soul of the Chief, and he immediately 
offered the Malay driver, and the ragged little urchin 
who accompanied him on the box, a guilder for its 
capture. They promptly left the carriage in the middle 
of the road and chivied after the kid, and in a moment 
the Chief followed. But the kid developed unexpected 
powers of feinting ; it dodged, it ran back, it squirmed, 
it slipped through their hands again and again. Then 
suddenly it bolted through a hole in the hedge into the 
Chinese graveyard, and the pursuit was carried on 
amongst the tombs. Here again the kid was too able 
for them all. In some mysterious way it disappeared. 
Another kid, however, somewhat older, had also come 
into evidence, and this the Malay boy had no difficulty 
in capturing. But the Chief would have none of it. 
He demanded the first and no other. It was useless ; 
the kid was lost ; and we were compelled to return 
without it. The Chief was quite inconsolable. 

" But the kid wasn't theirs to give," I expostulated. 

T 289 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" What odds ? " he retorted carelessly, with the true 
contempt of the white man for the brown man's rights. 

That night the " Old Man " and I dined in state 
with the British Consul, and afterwards gravitated with 
him to the Club. 

It was a band promenade night, and the " Square " 
was brilliantly lit. Every one knew every one else, and 
every one sat out in the cool night at little round tables 
in front of the Club. 

Men and women alike were dressed in white, and in 
between the groups the silent-footed, brown-limbed, 
gaudily turbaned, and sandalled waiters passed noise- 
lessly with the many-coloured little liqueur-glasses and 
coffee-cups tinkling on trays. 

The band played softly, the sound of light laughter 
was everywhere, the stars twinkled brightly in the 
cloudless night. 

Heavy tropical scents came out and floated clingingly 
around us. 

Across the " Square " a tall equerry came with 
clinking sword, and secured tables a little apart. Then 
every one rose, the band stopped in the middle of a bar 
and struck up the Dutch National Anthem, and the 
Governor- General and his suite came slowly up on 
foot and took the places reserved for them. Then 
every one sat down again, and the interrupted laughter 
recommenced. 

We were shipping copra for Marseilles, and 
already the decks were all-pervaded with its sickly- 
sweetish odour, and the " copra-bug " had taken posses- 
sion of the ship. He is a little black fellow about the 
size and shape of a lady-bird, and wherever the copra 
goes he goes. Luckily he has no bad habits, and so one 
soon accepts his presence without resentment. Occa- 
290 




A BULLOCK \VA(i()X, jrACASSAK 




A WATEll-CAKT, MACASSAR 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

sionally snakes also found their way on board with the 
copra. These we did not appreciate at all. 

On the morning after the band promenade the sound 
of tom-tom beating drew me along the quays towards 
the old native harbour. This lay at the far end of the 
wharf, away from our moorings. 

There I found a fleet of bugis sailing praus coming 
into port, and, as was the custom, on the bow of each, 
standing outlined against the sky, was an almost naked 
little boy rattling a tom-tom slung round his neck with 
all his might and main. 

Macassar is one of the greatest emporiums of the 
Far East. To it come rattans from Borneo, sandal- 
wood and beeswax from Flores and Timor, trepang 
(beche-de-mer) from the Gulf of Carpentaria, oil of 
Cajuputi from Bouru, nutmegs, spices, and pepper 
from the Spioe Islands, mussoi bark from New Guinea, 
mother-of-pearl, tortoiseshell, and pearls from the Aru 
Islands, edible birds'- nests for Chinese consumption, 
and agar-agar for the bacteriological laboratories of 
Europe. According to Wallace, to whose delightful 
" Malay Archipelago " every scientific reader is in- 
debted, the first " bird of Paradise " skins ever seen 
in Europe came from Macassar and were described by 
the great Linnseus. 

The sailing praus had come to anchor when I got to 
the end of the " Wilhelminakade," as the European 
wharf is called in honour of the young Queen of Holland, 
and stepping off it one moved in a yard back from the 
twentieth to the tweli'th century, from the age of the 
steam crane and the Parsons turbine to that of Sir John 
Mandeville and the Great Cham of Tartary. One could 
well imagine that when the Arab conquerors first in- 
vaded Java in the fifteenth century, and forced their 
militant faith on the mild-eyed Buddhist population, 

29X 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

they must have found the then native harbour of 
Macassar almost the same as I on that bright morning. 

Imagine a number of crazy wooden piers, short, long, 
and irregular, built of sun-dried, multitudinously patched 
pieces of plank, full of holes and cracks, supported on 
irregular rows of stakes driven into the shallow water, 
shaking as one walked on them, ready to drop to pieces, 
dry as tinder in the hot sun, spread here and there with 
masses of trepang (sea- slugs of the Holothurian type), 
bales of sun-dried fish, odoriferous buffalo hides, piles 
of dried seaweed, and edible birds'-nests. 

Playing over these crazy platforms were numbers 
of naked little brown boys, who seemed equally at home 
in or out of the water, climbing down the piles with pre- 
hensile toes into little dug-out canoes, and upsetting one 
another out of these into the warm water in play. 

Here and there at the inner ends of the piers, where 
the backs of the houses projected into the water, quiet 
Chinese merchants, loose-robed, pigtailed, were conning 
over the cargoes coming in and going out ; whilst creak- 
ing against the ends of the piers, swung by ropes of 
twisted rattan, were the praus just arrived, some with 
sails furled, already discharging their cargoes of dried 
fish and other commodities, others still full up, one 
with the captain's wife cooking the midday rice. 

As these bugis praus are the swift-sailing ships of 
the once-dreaded Malay pirates, a description may be 
interesting. They are of about seventy tons burden, 
carry a crew of from thirty to forty men, and are 
credited with a speed of twelve to sixteen knots. 
The deck slopes from stern to bow, and the steer- 
ing is done by two large tillers, slung in rattan 
slings, one on either quarter, let through square 
holes from a sort of lower half-deck into the water. 
It looks a dangerous arrangement, as one would ex- 
292 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

pect a following sea to gurgle through the holes and 
swamp the ship, but apparently the Malays find it 
quite satisfactory. The poop, aft, is three feet six high, 
so that one can sit comfortably under it, Malay fashion. 
In the centre of the ship is a deck-house with a palm- 
leaf roof, and low sliding doors of thatch on either side. 
There are two masts, and the main yard is about a 
hundred feet long, made up of two or three bamboo 
poles neatly lashed together with rattans. The sails are 
oblong or triangular, hung from the centre of each mast 
so that the short end is down on deck and the long end 
projects into the air. The main sail is made of matting. 
There are two jibs, and a fore-and-aft sail of battak 
astern. Wallace made a voyage, from Macassar to the 
Aru Islands and back, of a thousand miles in one of these 
praus, and states that they are magnificently speedy and 
very comfortable. 

I was looking at one that was discharging a cargo 
of dried fish when the old Chinese owner came along 
the crazy gangway, and, seeing my evident curiosity, 
motioned me to go aboard. Nothing loath, I dropped 
on the deck, and he followed down more cautiously. 
Neither of us could speak a word to one another, but 
he motioned me aft, and we squatted on the poop. 
There he produced an earthenware jar of " hocshu " 
and two earless cups, smiling and pointing to the buttons 
on my tunic, which were of mother-of-pearl stencilled 
in silver with the Chinese for " Good luck." He filled 
up the cups, handed me one, we both said " chin-chin " 
solemnly, and drank. It tasted like very mellow arak 
and was distinctly heady, as I found when I bade him 
farewell after an inspection of the ship, which I could 
not make as complete as I should have wished owing 
to the overpowering odour of the cargo. In spite of the 
smell, however, I took my time, shook hands, and bowed 

293 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

myself slowly away, feeling very flattered by the old 
man's kindness, and wishful therefore to let him know it. 

When I told the Second Engineer about it after 
" tiffin," he roared with laughter. 

" Fancy shaking hands and bowing to a Chink. I 
guess he knew you were no Dutchman, Doc." 

" I'd like to have tasted that ' hocshu,' though," 
he added as an afterthought. " I should think the old 
boy must be a connoisseur. But fancy bowing to a 
Chink. You take the biscuit, Doc." 

That evening, for the first time, I tasted the famous 
durien fruit. Often had I passed the native mer- 
chant with his mass of maramillated spheroids, and 
smelt the sickly odour arising from them as he carved 
the segments for sale. I had seen Malays, and even 
little Dutch children, enjoying them with evident gusto, 
but had thought it must be an acquired taste, for the 
smell is as the smell of rotten onions, and the fruit is 
not supposed to be eaten till it falls off the tree rotting. 

That evening, however, the Steward supplied some 
for dessert, and the evident enjoyment of the officers 
at length induced me to try it. Then I was sorry I had 
deprived myself of such a pleasure so long, for, as 
Dampier saith, " 'Tis as white as milk, and as soft as 
cream, and the taste very delicious." 

Afterwards I found quite a considerable literature 
about it, for the repellent odour and the subsequent 
surprise of the taste makes every traveller talk about 
it. Wallace calls it the " king and emperor of fruits," 
and quotes Linschott as saying : " It is of such an 
excellent taste that it surpasses in flavour all the other 
fruits of the world, according to those that have tasted 
it." Paludanus says : " It is of a hot and humid 
nature. To those not used to it it seems at first to 
^94 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

smell of rotten onions, but immediately they have 
tasted it they prefer it to all other foods. The natives 
give it honourable titles, exalt it, and make verses 
to it." 

On the other hand, Dampier, though praising it 
highly, gives preference to the mangosteen, as does 
also Miss Scudamore in her charming sketches of 
Javanese life. Unfortunately for my cmiosity, the 
mangosteen was not obtainable at the time I was in 
Java. 

" You thought I was pulling your leg the other day 
when I suggested we might have some when we were 
out," said the Chief ; and I had to confess that I had, 
indeed thought so. 



A day or so after the fleet of praus had arrived we 
had a visit from the oil and pearl merchants. The first 
were of the ordinary type, selling the famous Macassar 
oil and " Kaiputi " (oil of Cajuputi) ; but the pearl 
merchants were of a more interesting variety. Typical 
Malays of the better class, they came aboard garbed 
in little round basket-work skull-caps, the usual baju 
jacket, sarong, and sandals. But in addition each 
wore a wide leather belt having many little leather 
pockets. Tied up in handkerchiefs they also brought 
great pearl-oyster shells as large as a dinner-plate — 
many of them with one or more mother-of-pearl blisters, 
which might or might not contain a pearl if cut into. 

Squatting " dodok," they spread the shells on the 
deck before us as we lounged in our chairs enjoying 
an after-" tiffin " smoke, and from the numerous pockets 
of their belts produced little parcels of pearls, wrapped 
up in thin Chinese paper. These also they deposited 
on the deck. The pearls had come from Papua, and 

295 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

probably a good many of them had been acquired in 
questionable ways. 

The first day they came they evidently did not 
expect to sell. It was only a preliminary skirmish, 
and the prices asked were merely for the purpose of 
finding out what limit we would be likely to rise to, 
each offer coming lower and lower, after the manner 
of a Dutch auction. There were all sorts and sizes of 
pearls, from large perfect spheres through black globoids 
down to irregular masses of mother-of-pearl and tiny 
seed pearls. 

Each day the prices went lower, and each day we 
laughed and bargained. It was all part of the game. 

" You can bet your boots," said the Chief, " they 
won't sell you anything at a loss, so bargain away." 

Of course we knew nothing whatever about pearls 
and their values ; but nevertheless we all bought a 
number that took our fancy, and afterwards when I had 
mine valued in London I found I had really got them 
cheap. Then I was sorry I had not bought more. 

This constant bargaining for everything is a habit 
one must acquire for one's own protection in the East. 
The Eastern merchant has no fixed price for anything ; 
an article is worth what he can get for it, and he has a 
profound contempt for the traveller who pays him what 
he asks without demur. In addition his rapacity is 
thereby aroused, and he keeps asking more and more 
every time, till the traveller, goaded into recognising 
that extortion is being practised on him, refuses to 
tolerate it any longer, thereby making not only him- 
self irritable but also the vendor, whose hopes of reaping 
a huge profit from his inexperience have been thus rudely 
shattered. The moral is to bargain for everything. 

At last the date of our departure was fixed. It was 
296 



MACASSAR IN CELEBES 

for Saturday at noon, so on the Friday night the 
" Old Man " gave a supper party on the bridge-deck 
to which a number of Dutch ladies were invited. One 
fine old Dutchman was present with his grand-daughter, 
who appeared to be a typical full-blooded Malay. It 
was a curious example of Mendelism. The old gentle- 
man had married a Malay and his Eurasian son a 
Dutchwoman, and yet this son's daughter appeared 
to be pure Malay. 

Saturday morning saw us still taking in cargo. We 
were due to start at noon, and as was his nature the 
" Old Man " was acutely miserable to be off. He 
paced up and down the bridge-deck all morning in 
a fume, while the Chinamen on shore kept on leisurely 
weighing the copra with the curious steel-yard invented 
before the Christian era, and bales of buffalo hides kept 
coming still on board. 

We were carrying the mails to Samarang, and the 
bags, too, kept coming at intervals, much to the annoy- 
ance of Horner, in whose charge they were. The Chief 
had paid a last hurried farewell visit to Yuki in the 
morning, and had his last lager from her delicate fingers. 
I, too, had been rushing round in a vain attempt to obtain 
photographic plates from a mythical Chinaman. The 
whole ship's company was thus aboard, and every one 
was wishing we might start. 

A Norwegian barque that had been loading for a week, 
and had sailed that morning, was now a white-winged 
vision on the edge of the horizon. 

But all the cargo was not yet in, and the " Old Man " 
said he would wait an hour extra and no more. At 
one o'clock, then, he climbed sturdily on the bridge, 
and immediately afterwards the siren sounded. Then 
a man coming slow^ly along the quays with a bullock 
wagon seemed to get excited. Vainly he tried to goad 

297 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

his leisurely beasts to greater speed. Nothing could 
make them do it, 

" It's another load of hides," said the Third Mate. 

" Can't wait for them," snapped the " Old Man." 

Then a Dutchman came furiously round the corner 
waving something white. He ran panting up the 
gangway. It was a late letter for the mail. 

Horner grimly charged him fivepence extra as a late 
fee, and the man began to expostulate, but a voice roaring 
down from the bridge cut him short. It was the " Old 
Man " shouting, " Haul up the gangway." 

With a startled look the Dutchman fled. 

The bullock wagon was still approaching, its driver 
gesticulating wildly. 

" D — n the hides," said the " Old Man " as he rang 
the "stand-by." 

We were off. 



(Si/S 



CHAPTER X 
THE RETURN TO JAVA. SAMARANG. BATAVIA 

The fruitless love of the Prince of Boro-Boedor for the daughter 
of the Lord of Mendoet : The gentle art of shark-fishing ; 
Prickly heat and the "leading lady " : The startling deshabille 
of the Dutch East Indian lady : An interview with a leper : 
Cargo-lifting along the coast : How we bathed at Petit Trou- 
ville, and what came of it : Weltevreden : The daughter of 
Wang-Chu : The ordeal of the " Rijst-tavel " : The " horrid 
memory " of Pieter Elberfelt : Salamat 



CHAPTER X 

In an hour the panorama of the land was gone, and we 
were steering once again for Java. Late in the after- 
noon we passed the Norwegian barque that had sailed 
before us in the morning, and so at sunset we were 
alone in an opal sea, that changed to red, merged into 
purple, and ended in a lotus-yellow in the afterglow. 
Macassar had become a memory, and the calm of the 
waters fell over us once more. 

All the next day we were steaming through a rippling 
summer sea, with the thin blue line of the Java coast 
faint and hazy, far to southward. A slumbrous calm 
lay over the ship. With half-closed eyes we lay stretched 
watching the bonito jump black against the sun, becom- 
ing a rippling gleam of silver as they turned and plunged 
again. Now and again the look-out bell sounded 
warningly, and we would look up to see one or more 
Javanese praus, with their triangular sails swelling to 
the breeze, crossing our track. 

Night fell, and in the darkness, far to the south, came 
a glow as of a great forest fire. 

"That," said the "Old Man," standing beside me 
on the bridge, " is Slamat, the volcano behind Sama- 
rang. The glow is the cloud reflection of the crater. 
We should be under it at midnight." 

It was almost midnight when we reached port. The 
water was very shallow, and we were obliged to anchor 
in five fathoms at a distance of three miles from the 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

shore. Around us were the riding lights of the other 
ships, and presently the packet-boat arrived from 
Batavia, port-holes aglow, looking like a luminous 
snake as she wound gracefully to her anchorage close by. 

We signalled, and in answer she sent a launch for the 
mails. 

" I'm jolly glad to be rid of them," said Horner. 
" Once on a time the second mates were paid for looking 
after them. Now they're not, and still one has the 
responsibility." 

I was exceedingly anxious to get ashore at Samarang, 
not so much on account of the place as because there 
are some famous Buddhist pyramids near. The centre 
of Java is studded with these wonderful temples, relics 
of a bygone civilisation. At Boro-Boedor there is 
one covering as large an area as the great pyramid of 
Gizeh, but, unlike the Egyptian pyramids, these are 
studded with hundreds of the most elaborately carved 
statues and miles on miles of bas-reliefs. This great 
temple was discovered buried in jungle vegetation, 
forgotten even by the natives, by Sir Stamford Raffles 
during the English occupation. The Dutch had held the 
country for two hundred years and did not know of its 
existence. It has over five hundred carved Buddhas 
arranged around its walls, and is probably the most 
wonderful work of its kind in the world. 

Legend, as is natural, has been busy with the site, 
and the tale told is something as follows. At the time 
when William the Norman was parcelling out England 
amongst his robber barons there dwelt a Prince in 
Boro-Boedor who was great and wise, very learned, 
and a profound philosopher. And, as is often the 
way with wise men, he loved the frivolous, gay, and 
witty daughter of a neighbouring Prince, the Lord of 
Mendoet, courting her with grave and stately words 
302 



THE RETURN TO JAVA 

and most respectful manner. And she, after the manner 
of women, cared not for any of these stately ways, 
but wanted to be wooed with hot words of passion, 
with verses pulsing from the heart, with impetuous 
advances hard to be repelled — for the maiden was young 
and very beautiful, and a thing to set men's hearts 
afire. And so his courtship found her cold and un- 
affected. But nevertheless she could not ignore him, 
for his principality marched with that of her father, 
she was the heiress, and her father favoured an alliance 
that would preserve the succession safely after his 
death. And so he pressed his daughter to pledge her 
troth to the Prince of Boro-Boedor that he might go down 
to the grave in peace. At the last, then, because of 
the importunity of her father and because no other 
man had touched her heart, she consented, stipulating, 
however, that he should build a temple to the honour 
of Gautama and Loro-Jongran greater than any in 
Java, and in a certain definite space of time which she 
made as short as was possible next to impossibility. 
And the Prince of Boro-Boedor, because of his great love 
for her, consented, and, stimulated by his love, hurried 
on the workmen so that he had it completed within the 
allotted time, putting all the sweetness of his affection, 
the lofty thoughts, the noble impulses he could not 
give expression to in words, into the perfect details of 
the great temple. And v/hen it was all finished he sent 
to let the maiden know. But in the interval the Prince, 
her father, had died, and she was now the Princess of 
Mendoet, and had repented of her promise. 

Nevertheless she came and gazed on its wonderful 
loveliness, saw its vast perfection, and knew it had 
all been done for love of her. Yet was her heart not 
touched. She tm^ned to the Prince, waiting with tense 
desire for her answer, and said ; 

303 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" Truly, O Prince, these images are beautiful, but they 
are dead. I cannot love you any more than I can them." 

And the Prince bowed his head and said never a word, 
for he loved her greatly, and knew by this that she was 
unworthy. 

Such is the story. 

This great temple is near Djokjokarta, on the 
southern side of the island, but there was one, not so 
grand, but still very imposing, near Samarang, and it 
was this I wanted to visit. 

" There's no chance of getting ashore. Doc," the 
" Old Man " said in answer to my query. " We're 
ordered o& at midday to-morrow." 

To-morrow, however, found us loading sugar all day. 
The lighters came continuously. There seemed no end 
to the sugar that was waiting to be loaded. Some one 
seemed to have blundered in the head office at Batavia. 
All day long the round canvas bales kept coming on 
board, and all day long the monotonous chant of the 
coolies came up from the holds as they swung them 
into position crooning, " Amma-ti-ra-ta-huh — amma- 
ti-ra-ta-huh." 

One could see nothing of the town except the 
" Pharos " at the mouth of the canal leading up to it. 
Not a sampan came near us. It was steamingly hot, 
and the water looked temptingly cool, but the number 
of sharks nosing round the ship checked any idea of 
bathing. Finally the Third Steward took it into his 
head to fish for one with a grappling hook and a lump 
of pork. We wandered over casually to watch, and 
presently one big fellow came along, nosed it, and then 
proceeded leisurely round the ship. 

" That fellow's as good as caught, sir," said the 
boatswain, who was passing at the time. " Once they 
smell salt pork they're done for." 
304 



THE RETURN TO JAVA 

In a few minutes he appeared again, nosed it, and 
again swam leisurely round the ship. The steward had 
hitched the rope holding the grappling hook round his 
body, and then around a stanchion for further security, 
and when for a third time the shark nosed it and left he 
exclaimed disgustedly, " He's as partikler as a Chink 
about his pork, he is." 

He turned his head for a moment, and then suddenly 
he was jerked against the rail with great violence. The 
rope tightened around his body ; his face was white. 

" Lor, he's swallered it. Help ! " he gasped. 

Everybody rushed to his aid to take the strain off his 
body. He unwound himself, gasping while we pulled 
and stumbled against one another checking the shark's 
'mad rushes. The boatswain's voice rose cheerfully. 
" Now then ! All together," and we pulled steadily. 
The water alongside was lashed into foam. He dashed 
madly to and fro. It was a tremendous pull. Even 
when he was half out of the water the power of his 
tail was surprisingly great. Once he was clear of his 
element, however, his strength seemed to go from him. 
At length we got him on to the deck, and then he 
appeared to come to life again, jerking and snapping 
like a wolf. A blow from the carpenter's adze settled 
him, however, and then he lay an inert mass, with now 
and again a quiver while we gazed at him triumphantly. 

It was the Third Steward who had captured him, 
and the spoils therefore were to him. The carpenter 
made a walking-stick out of his backbone, which the 
steward offered to me, I refused it, however, as his 
was the capture, and I could see he was very keen to 
keep the trophy. The carcase v/as given to the China- 
men, and they cut it up into strips and ate it. A 
Chinaman will eat anything. It was a fitting end. 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Towards nightfall we were still loading, more and 
more lighters coming out, and then the orders for sailing 
were countermanded from Batavia. It was the agent 
who came aboard with the news, and immediately I took 
the opportunity of asking for the loan of his launch to 
take me ashore on the morrow. 

It was almost sunset at the time, and leaning on the 
rail, we saw a sight possible only in this country. It 
was the Samarang fishing fleet coming out against 
the setting sun. They spread all about us in boats 
shaped like gondolas, each rowed by ten long sweeps, 
and as they rowed the tinkle of innumerable little bells 
came from them, for all along the boom each boat 
was thickly strung with rows and rows of them, their 
tinkling being supposed to draw the fish as if by 
enchantment. Overhead, in a sort of crow's nest at 
the mast head, each boat had a look-out man stationed, 
his body and his cone-shaped hat outlining themselves 
against an amber sky. From his position he could see 
where the shoals were, and from there he directed the 
steersman with a low, sweet musical call. There must 
have been about twenty of them, and the sea was 
literally alive with fish. When each boat had picked 
its moorings the men stopped rowing and rapidly threw 
out their nets, floated with pieces of bamboo, a boy 
being sent out with each net to square it properly, 
kicking all the time to keep the sharks from seizing 
him. 

It is difficult to express how intensely beautiful it 
all was in the still tropical evening. We watched it 
spellbound till the swift darkness fell like a drop- 
curtain and hid it from our sight, only a blotch of 
phosphorescence being left to mark the position of each 
boat. 



306 



SAMARANG 

Samarang, like most of the ports on this coast, lies 
inland, connected by a canal and a steam tramway 
with the coast. There is the usual lighthouse at the 
mouth, and the usual praus and launches in the canal. 
I asked the British Vice-Consul about going to the 
temples, and he informed me it would be necessary to 
get a passport if I wished to go inland, the Dutch 
being very jealous of strangers wandering at their own 
sweet will about the country. That knocked my 
plans completely on the head, and so I decided to see 
the town and return. The ship's comprador gave me 
a half-caste clerk as a guide, and together we drove 
round to see the sights. The town was greatly excited, 
I found, by the advent of an English musical comedy 
company, playing " The Cingalee," " The Dairymaids," 
" Florodora," and " The Spring Chicken " ; and going into 
the Hotel Du Pavilion for something with ice in 
it, on making my request in English, I was promptly 
seized upon by the " leading lady " to explain my 
presence in this " one-horse country," and compelled 
to listen to her tale of quarrels with every one and 
everything. She was obviously suffering from " prickly 
heat," and it had been too much for her temper. Con- 
sequently I discovered that I had an engagement to 
have " rijst-tavel " at the opposition hotel, the Hotel 
Jansen, and fled ; for a discontented white woman 
in a hot country is something to run from. It is hard 
enough for a man to keep equable at times in the heat. 
It must be almost impossible for a woman, especially 
a woman dressed in European clothes. 

The Dutchwoman manages to keep cool and placid 
in Java by the very simple expedient of doing nothing 
and wearing almost nothing. 

It is very disconcerting at first to the fresh arrival, 
until one gets used to it, to see the startling deshabille 

307 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

they aft'ect, even in public. At the Hotel Jansen 
several of these " abandoned creatures," as the " leading 
lady," stiffly uncomfortable in European clothes, called 
them, were lolling about in the inevitable cane lounges 
in the public verandah. 

Imagine a lady in the corridor of an hotel lying 
at full length, bare-headed, dressed in a " kabaya " of 
white batiste, one thin white loose upper garment like 
a dressing jacket coming to a little below the waist, 
fastened in front with ornamental native pins and 
little gold chains, a sarong, very gorgeous in native 
colours, dropping to about six inches below the knee, 
bare legs, bare feet, and sandals or high-heeled shoes, 
and you have the Dutch East Indian lady clothed for the 
public eye. 

After lunch I wandered back to the comprador's 
office. There I met the captain of a steamer trading 
to and from Singapore. His ship was anchored not 
far from ours, and he invited me on board on the 
way back. When he told me he had a European leper 
as a passenger I accepted at once. The patient was 
a Dutch tobacco planter from Sumatra, and how he 
got the disease was a mystery. He said he had ex- 
hausted European treatment, and now was in the 
hands of a Bengali who was dosing him with the 
powder of precious stones collected in the mountains 
and heated in a flame for fourteen days. He was 
pathetically anxious to get well. His English was 
perfect. He told me he could speak six European 
languages with equal facility, he was passionately fond 
of music, and he was a leper. He said the powdered 
precious stones were doing him a lot of good, and asked 
me if I did not think so too. I agreed at once, he was 
watching me so anxiously, and then he brightened up 
surprisingly. After a bit I asked if I might see the 
808 



SAMARANG 

powdered precious stones, and he produced a tiny phial 
from his pocket, and ran a few of the precious grains 
out into the palm of my hand. It was ordinary crude 
sulphide of antimony, but I was careful not to tell him 
so. As long as he was happy why should I destroy his 
dream, poor beggar ? 

I must have spent a longer time than I had thought 
with him, for presently the sound of the siren came 
booming across from our ship, and I knew the " Old 
Man " was hooting for me. 

With a hasty farewell I left him. He did not offer 
to shake hands. I wished afterwards I had volunteered 
to do so. After all I could easily have sterilised mine 
afterwards, and he had probably not shaken hands with 
a white man for years. 

When I got back all was bustle on the ship, and in half 
an hour we had sailed. Across our bows as we started 
two big water -spouts curled north by east about a mile 
in front of us, and then broke up in the offing. A deluge 
of rain fell on the ship, and the air afterwards was 
like an elixir following the stuffiness of the Samarang 
anchorage. 

For the next few days we were cargo-lifting all along 
the coast towards Batavia, raising the stuff from lighters 
at sea three or four miles from the coast opposite little 
ports of which we only saw the outline, and some- 
times did not bother even to know the name. Some- 
times we would stop as often as three times in the day. 
The ship would be going along monotonously, with 
not a sight of anything, and then a number of little 
specks would appear right ahead, we would slow down, 
and the specks, turning out to be a dozen or so lighters 
sent out to intercept us, would transfer their cargo 
to our holds. Sometimes we would be as much as 
six hours at one of these ports — Pekalongan with its 

309 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

volcano, Tegal with its curious outrigged boats, 
Cheribon with its large conical mountain in the back- 
ground. When we were compelled to stop any length 
of time the whole white population, numbering perhaps 
half a dozen souls, would find some excuse to come 
aboard, just to look at a fresh face and speak to some 
one different. It must have been a ghastly life for 
those fellows, out there merely to make a living, caring 
nothing for the habits, customs, language, or folk- 
lore of the people, simply tied to a stool all day making 
out indents of cargo for some big firm in Amsterdam 
hardly conscious of their existence, drinking much beer 
during the day, and going home at night to the un- 
interesting society of the native women whom they 
euphemistically called wives, to try to sleep as much 
as the heat and the sizzling mosquitoes would permit. 

After we had been moving along for some days at 
this slow rate it was a great relief to every one when 
the orders came to hasten to Batavia. We all drew a 
sigh of relief. The heat was beginning to affect us by 
now ; we were anxious to get out of the steaminess of 
it, and be once more in the wide sweep of the Indian 
Ocean. 

" A week in Batavia," said the Mate, " and we shall 
be homeward bound." 

It was one o'clock on a Saturday afternoon when we 
sighted Idam Island, with its white tower high above 
the green, and soon every eye was fastened on the 
rapidly approaching land, the Mate picking out the 
familiar spots as we approached along the green- fringed 
shore. 

A long white breakwater with three great Dutch 
cruisers inside, and then a mass of shipping, came rapidly 
in sight. 
310 



BATAVIA 

" That's Tanjong Priok. We'll be ashore in half an 
hour. Doc./' he said. 

Slowly, under the guidance of the pilot, we steamed 
between the two great breakwaters, passing and dipping 
to the Dutch men-o'-war, sliding past the fort, the 
time-flag tower, two of the magnificent Rotterdam- 
Lloyd mail-boats, and one of our own ships to which we 
waved furious greetings. 

We were moored eventually at what is known as the 
" coal-wharf," and then the heat fell on us, for we 
started coaling immediately, and all the ports had to be 
hermetically shut to keep out the dust. 

It was stifling. The " Old Man " had already started 
for Batavia, but no one else was able to be off duty. 

It was impossible to stay on the ship. Already 
bamboo platforms had been erected and the coolies were 
swinging up the coal. 

" I'll be off duty in half an hour," said the Chief. 

In the meanwhile I wandered round the great square 
basin dredged out of a swamp by the marvellous 
engineering patience for which the Dutch are famous. 
This great basin is known as Tanjong Priok. It is the 
harbour of Batavia, which is six and a hai-f miles distant. 
The original harbour began silting up after the eruption 
of Mount Salak in 1699. The eruption dammed up 
the river Tjiliwong, and this, when the waters broke 
through, sent a stream of mud and sand into the harbour 
till it gradually became useless. 

The dredging of the new harbour at Tanjong Priok 
and the building of the breakwaters cost 26,500,000 
gulden, or over two million pounds sterling. Before, 
it had been a mangrove swamp, and the stirring up of 
the mud when it was being dredged cost some thousands 
of lives from Java fever. Now, however, it is com- 
paratively healthy, and as a harbour it is one of the 

311 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

finest in the world. But it is certainly also one of the 
hottest. 

The Chief and the Second hailed me as I was coming 
back along the coal-wharf. 

" Come on. We're going to the Petit Trouville for 
a swim." 

The very idea was exhilarating ; I joined them at 
once. We crossed the railway tracks and over a large 
field where a crowd of Dutch men-o'-war's nrien were 
kicking a football about in the broiling sun. It looked 
suicidal, but they appeared to be flourishing on it. 
Coming on to a shady road, we crossed a bridge over a 
creek and debouched on the native village of Tanjong 
Priok. At the near end, next the bridge, everybody 
seemed to be selling fruit, those who did not making 
up by displaying sherbet and " limonade." 

It was the time of the siesta, and as we progressed 
the village became more and more deserted. Everywhere 
we saw limp, somnolent figures asleep on the " baleh- 
baleh " (string mattresses) of their verandahs. 

Turning down a bridle-path arched over in a deep 
sea of green caused by the light filtering through the 
broad banana leaves, we followed the winding track, 
past native huts and small plantain walks, patches of 
yams, jack fruit, and betel trees. Suddenly we came 
on a graveyard, and I stopped. It took me quite by 
surprise. It was a European graveyard, started prob- 
ably when the harbour was being made, and now used 
for those foreigners who had strayed to this far-off, 
forgotten land and died. Many of the names we noted 
on the gravestones were English ; some of the graves 
showed signs of care ; others (the great majority) 
were neglected ; many of the oblong mounds were 
nameless. 

" Let's go on," said the Second suddenly with a 




THK "I'ASSKll" AT TANJOXG PRIOK 




FURTHER ROUND TWO WOMEN WERE DREDGING 
FOR CKABS" (See p. 313) 



shiver. " We buried two fellows with cholera there a 
few years back." 

A native woman came swinging along crooning to 
herself as she walked, bronzed, splendidly erect, with 
a chattie on her head. She stopped abruptly when she 
saw us, and turned aside into a plantain grove. Further 
round two more women were dredging for crabs in a 
shallow overflow from the sea. We passed through a 
copra plantation, kicking the fallen cocoanuts aside as 
we walked, climbed over a fence, and were in the grounds 
of the Petit Trouville. 

This was a most unorthodox way of getting in, and 
the Chinese proprietor didn't like it ; for, seeing three 
strange, intrusive figures climbing over his fence, he 
came running toAvards us, followed by his two sons. 

" Hello, Wang"Chu, still alive, you old extortioner," 
shouted the Chief. 

Then Wang-Chu stopped abruptly, for it was very 
hot. A broad smile spread over his face. 

" Wat for you no come oila way ? " he said. 

" No likee pay twenty-five cent," truthfully replied 
the Chief. 

Petit Trouville is unique. Imagine a thick planta- 
tion of palm, njamplong, and cocoanut trees along 
a silvery sea-shore, with a row of wooden bathing-huts 
near the beach, and a bamboo fence some distance out 
in the water to keep off sharks and water snakes. 
Amongst the trees are twenty or thirty little rustic 
arbom's with tables, chairs, and great cane lounges. 
Further back is a verandahed wooden restaurant with 
a billiard-room, a dining-hall, and an open floor for 
dancing. 

On a Sunday afternoon, when the heat is of an in- 
tensity and the dust rises, making the eyes smart and 
parching the throat, when clothes are an irritating 

318 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

convention and tempers are frayed by " prickly heat," 
it is then that Batavia suddenly remembers the Petit 
Trouville, and with a gasp of relief pours down en 
masse to the cool shade of the njamplongs, the caress 
of the incoming sea-breeze, and the exhilarating embrace 
of the long combing rollers that tumble on the silvery 
beach. 

Every one is dressed in white, the women with big 
straw hats, the men in pith helmets. Merry groups 
are splashing about in bathing costume in the water, 
their heads protected from the fierce sun by enormous 
umbrella-like hats provided with the bathing costumes. 
Others recline in the arbours, or lie where the wax-like, 
scented petals of the njamplongs fall around them 
with every breath of wind, and the scent of the purple 
lantana is all-pervasive. Great patches of sunlight 
mingle with the dappled shade. Everywhere one hears 
the tinkle of ice in glasses, the deep bass of men's voices 
mingling with the lighter trilling laughter of the women. 
Everywhere silent, impassive, pigtailed, deferential 
Chinamen move around attending to the wants of the 
dominant race. 

The sea is a great stretch of dimpled sun-lit blue, 
meeting far out the olive-green of the horizon, where 
a group of islets and the white tower of Idam hang 
like a faery cloud picture too ethereal for reality. 

The incoming tide breaks with a turquoise roll, 
having a fleecy white-rimmed edge that ripples up and 
sinks bubbling in the thirsty, heated sand. 

Such is the picture of Petit Trouville as I remember 
it best. On that afternoon, however, we had it all to 
ourselves, and soon we were splashing in the warm sea, 
our heads protected from the sun by the huge regulation 
circular straw hats as big as umbrellas, characteristic 
of the place. It was gloriously exhilarating. We 
814 



BATAVIA 

returned to the ship for dinner feeling like new 
men. 

After sunset, however, the heat was still intense, 
and the exhilaration gradually left us. The air was 
stagnant, and we missed the breeze created by the 
ship in motion. Our clothes felt tight, every movement 
was a fatigue, and the mosquito already was singing his 
high, insistent note. 

At last I could stand it no longer. 

" I'm off to Batavia for the night," I suddenly an- 
nounced. " I feel suffocated here. Any of you fellows 
coming ? " 

" Can't go," said the Chief regretfully. 

" Nor I," said the Mate. 

" I'm game," said Horner, sotto voce, so that the Mate 
need not hear, officially, unless he liked. 

The train ride in the night was delightful after the 
stagnation of the lagoon. A cool breeze blew through 
the mosquito-curtained spaces that acted as windows. 
We lounged at ease, for our compartment was fitted 
with comfortable arm-chairs, and otherwise furnished 
as a smoking-room. The smell of unknown tropical 
scents wafted through to us. Myriads of fire-flies flitted 
with their twinkling lights in the velvet dark. Groves 
of bamboos whispered secrets to the night air. The 
stars came out and glistened in the still waters of the 
canal alongside the track. We could feel the collars 
of our uniforms growing slacker and more comfortable 
around our necks. 

When we arrived in Batavia we called a carriage 
and gave the Malay driver permission by an ample sweep 
of the arm to take us anywhere. W^e rattled along 
through the crowded streets and watched the crowds. 
Troops of hilarious Dutch sailors were everywhere, 
singing, dancing, wearing strange masks, mafficking 

315 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

generally, in celebra,tion of the birthday of the Prince 
Consort. 

The cafes were crowded with gaily dressed people 
sitting at little tables and listening to the bands. We 
felt as if we had suddenly dropped back into civilisation 
— the electric lights, the tramways, the toilettes of the 
ladies, the uniforms of the oificers, the fine buildings, 
the music, all tended to produce a Parisian effect, even 
in the bizarre Malay surroundings. 

Nevertheless it felt unreal somehow, theatrical, 
like a Gaiety musical comedy with an exotic back- 
ground. 

We paid off our carriage and ambled along on foot. 
Gradually we left the open tree-embowered Welte- 
vreden (New Batavia) of the European quarter, and 
wandered on till we found ourselves in the older part, 
the original Dutch, unhealthy Old Batavia, of many 
canals, the sinister graveyard city that slew so many 
thousand Europeans before the days of sanitation and 
cholera-prophylaxis, deserted now, except for business 
houses and Government offices in the daytime, given 
over to Chinese, Arabs, Japs, and Malays at night. 
The New Batavia (Weltevreden) is a wonderful garden 
city, with each bungalow embowered in a park of its 
own ; the Old Batavia is a malarious place of narrow 
streets and solidly built old Dutch houses that might 
have been translated bodily from Amsterdam. 

We dropped into native " chow " houses, fell amongst 
the Chinese, tm'ned into a Japanese street, where we 
exchanged colloquial greetings with the little kimonoed 
ladies, and declined innumerable invitations to come in, 
smoke, and drink beer. 

Finally we wound up very tired at a Japanese yadoya, 
and soon were fast asleep, each in a huge mosquito- 
curtained square Dutch bed, with the usual great 



BATAVIA 

bolster down the centre that makes these beds so 
comfortable in a hot climate. 

In the middle of the night a most uncanny yelling 
brought me wide-awake. I could hear the Second Mate 
moving in the cubicle next mine. 

" What is it ? " I called softly. 

An eerie scream came from overhead, the sound of 
something falling, and then a silence. The Mate had 
struck a light, and we both turned out in our sarongs. 

" D — n," he said, " it's only a Gecko. I'm off to sleep 
again." 

What had happened was that two great lizards, 
crawling along with sucker feet upon the wall, had met 
and promptly started lighting. One had been bitten 
and immediately had fallen off to the ground. 

According to arrangement the Jap proprietor called 
us at five o'clock in the morning, and so we started 
out on foot shortly after sunrise. It was delightfully 
cool as we turned towards the railway station for 
Tanjong Priok. There we found we were by no means 
the only passengers. Outside the station a Chinaman 
was serving delicious hot coffee and rolls from his 
itinerant restaurant, and several European officials 
connected with the dock were patronising him. We 
followed their example. A company of native troops 
out route-marching passed us as we stood, the officers 
saluting our group as they passed, and we returning 
the salute as gravely. Crowds of coolies were packing 
themselves into carriages like cattle vans at the back of 
the train, and eventually we found that every one was 
waiting till we had finished our coffee to start. 

The native guard found us a saloon in front, and we 
travelled down with a young Dutchman who bathed 
his head and face freely with eau-de-Cologne. It 
looked an effeminate sort of thing to do, but ^Ye found 

Sir 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

others doing likewise, and in a few days were trying 
it ourselves, to discover then it was most refreshing. 

At the ship everything was peaceful ; the coaling 
was over, and every one asleep. 

We had our baths, changed into fresh ducks, and 
shouted for breakfast. 

" What have you fellows been up to ? " said the Chief 
grumpily. " No good, I'm sure." 

" Because you couldn't come is no reason for taking 
a gloomy view of life," said Horner. 

" This place is enough to give any one the jim-jams," 
said the Chief. 

The " Old Man " came back just as we were starting 
breakfast. I found he had had me made a member 
of the Harmonic Club in Batavia, so I could go up when- 
ever I liked. 

" It's a nice soft job, a ship-surgeon's," said the Chief, 
still not sure if he were irritable or not. " Can't think 
what they pay them for." 

" Touch wood, or you will have bad luck," said 
Horner laughingly, never expecting how true his words 
would come. 

It was that same afternoon. We decided to go to 
the Petit Trouville. The Chief was in an intensely 
rollicking mood, by way of reaction from the morning. 
He absolutely refused, however, to walk to the place, 
and so we drove round, overtaking on the way a carriage 
holding three decorous Chinese ladies. Our man 
shouted to the other driver to make way, and drove 
to one side so as to pass him. The road, however, was 
barely wider than the breadth of the two carriages, and 
the other driver would not give way. 

The Malay is an Irishman at heart — lazy, witty, 
intensely sporting, doting on cock-fights — and the two 
318 



BATAVIA 

men rapidly exchanged a series of vituperative retorts 
which ended in a challenge to race. We were so in- 
tensely amused that we forgot about the occupants of 
the other carriage, and their driver, with the contempt 
of the true Oriental for women, never gave a thought 
as to hoAV they might like it. He forged ahead of us, 
drawing to one side, and whipped up his little Timor 
ponies to the gallop. Our man promptly took up the 
challenge, and soon we were running neck and neck, 
every one whooping. The carriages lurched dangerously 
in the narrow, winding side-road. I caught a glimpse of 
two huddled figures with white powdered faces, and 
one splendid girl, sitting up erect, impassive, robed in 
grey silk, with her big almond eyes looking straight in 
front, the sleek black hair on her uncovered head tied 
in a long plait curled up behind, a pink flower over one 
temple. Once the wheels interlocked, and by a miracle 
cleared again. 

The branch of a tree struck the rival Jehu on the fore- 
head, and our man forged ahead, yelling furiously ; 
but the other, recovering, lashed wildly at his ponies 
and drew level again. The gate of the bathing-place 
was now in sight, and the road widened considerably. 
We dashed on like a tornado, ending in a dead-heat 
at the gates. The two Malays drew up panting and 
grinning, and we got out. 

The girl proudly marshalled her two elderly frightened 
companions firmly through the gate without a move- 
ment of her features, without a single look, as if com- 
pletely unconscious of our rudely staring presences. 

"■ By Jove, what a whopper ! " said the Second. 

As for me, I felt ashamed. I had not been long enough 
in the East to develop the Eastern contempt for women, 
especially coloured women. The Chief, too, was uneasy. 

'* It wasn't quite fair, was it ? They might have 

319 



been hiirt," he said. Then he brightened, up as his 
glance fell on the drivers. " But it was a jolly good 
race, all the same. Say, Mick, here's an extra half- 
dollar," he added to the grinning Jehu. " You're an 
old sport." 

When we got inside they had disappeared. We did 
not see them again. Cautious inquiries from Wang- 
Chu were unavailing. He did not seem to understand. 
It turned out afterwards they were his wife, her sister, 
and his daughter. We should have liked to see 
that girl again, but Wang-Chu, very pleasant, very 
bland, very inscrutable, hadn't the faintest intention 
of letting us. Did he resent our behaviour in not 
restricting the enthusiasm of our Jehus ? We never 
could find out. Did he pay it off on the Chief ? To this 
day I do not know. Perhaps he did. Perhaps it was a 
coincidence. 

At any rate he smilingly brought us bathing suits 
and big straw hats, and warned us not to get beyond 
the bamboo fence. The tide was out, and the water 
was shallow inside the fence. Outside the waves were 
coming in in league-long rollers, curling over white 
and glistening, pounding on the beach in one unceasing 
series of straight foaming lines, like cavalry charges 
from an inexhaustible army. We looked at them, then 
we found a dug-out canoe hauled up on the beach, also 
a couple of paddles, and the temptation was too great. 

Out we went into the surf, and over of course toppled 
the canoe. We tried with a crew of three, we tried 
with two, we tried with one, but none of us could manage 
to keep afloat. Each time the combing wave reached 
us we were upset. Eventually we found the best fun 
was to wait till a wave reached us, grasp the canoe, 
and dive through, then follow the canoe in on the crest 
of the next. 
320 



BATAVIA 

Out in the offing we saw the triangular fins of one 
or two sharks, but as they did not come in near we 
soon got to disregard them. Long before this we had 
lost our hats— that is, the Second and I had— but the 
Chief, having refused to dive, had kept his. 

Eventually his went too, and it was while wading 
for it that he suddenly gave a yell and collapsed into the 
water. It is extraordinary how difficult it is to make 
haste when one is wading. Both of us dived for him, 
but before we got to him he was up again, and was 
swearing furiously. 

" My leg," he said. " Something's stung it horribly." 
There were lots of jelly-fish about, and once or twice 
we had seen the flashing wriggle of a water-snake; 
but none of us had paid any attention to them. We 
helped him ashore, walking painfully. There I examined 
his ankle, and found a row of httle red dots just above the 
ankle of his left leg. 

Wang-Chu must have been watching us, and appar- 
ently he knew what was the matter at once, for when we 
got to the dressing-rooms he was there with a pot of some 
sort of lotion. 

" Plenty heap good fo' sting," he said cheerfully, as 

he wrapped the Chief's leg up in lint soaked in the stuff. 

Eventually we got him back to the ship. 

Next day he said he was better, and so I started off 

for Batavia alone, promising to meet the " Old Man " 

at " rijst-tavel " later on. 

In the interval I wandered round the " old town," 
with its canals and its fine old Dutch mansions now 
turned almost entirely into offices. 

Here lived the Dutch of the now-forgotten " Honour- 
able East India Company," the Dutch who fought 
so strenuously for centuries to keep the monopoly of Far 
Eastern trade in their own hands. Here the " Lords 

X 821 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

Seventeen " who ruled this vast empire lived in their 
stuffy old Dutch houses, dressed in heavy broadcloths, 
tight knee-breeches, and silver-buckled shoes, regardless 
of the climate. Here their wives in heavy velvets and 
brocades gave state entertainments in their gardens in 
the afternoon, regardless of the pitiless sun ; and here 
plague, sun-stroke, cholera, and fever slew them in their 
thousands with sinister persistency for three long cen- 
turies, till at last a man with seeing eyes arose, Welte- 
vreden was built and Old Batavia abandoned. Now, 
though it is populated during the day, no European 
sleeps there at night. 

But there is another Batavia, still more interesting 
than Old Batavia ; that is the " Kampong Bahru," the 
chief Chinese quarter of the city. Here the Chinese 
are segregated, a reminiscence of the precautions taken 
after the rebellion of 1720, and here one steps immedi- 
ately into a world of bustle and hurry, all the more 
striking when one has just left the old-world, immemorial 
lethargy of the somnolent Malay. For the Chinese 
quarter is a humming hive of industry; every one is 
busy, every one is actively doing something. 

I vv^atched a blacksmith working at an anvil making 
ornamental hinges, hammering away at the hot metal, 
streaming with perspiration, his yellow body naked, 
save for a sarong, in the sweltering heat. He never 
looked up the whole time I was watching him. He 
was evidently working against time. Had he been a 
Malay, in the remote possibility of his being found 
working at all, he would have stopped, smiled a courtly 
greeting as of one gentleman meeting another, accepted 
a cigarette, and conversed on things and the world 
in general until his visitor chose to take a leisurely 
departure. 

The Chinaman is never idle ; he is a born merchant, 
322 



BATAVIA 

His mind is constantly occupied by questions of barter 
and exchange. It is noticeable that unless he is very 
rich indeed, no matter how elaborately ornamented, 
dragon-haunted, gilded, lacquered, his house may be, 
it is in addition his place of business. Shop and home 
are synonyms to him ; the world is divided into buyers 
and sellers, and the things of the world into objects 
to buy and objects to sell. 

It is little wonder, then, that with so much concentra- 
tion of purpose the Chinaman is so invariably successful. 
The wealth of the Chinese in Java is enormous. A rich 
Chinaman thinks nothing of spending several thousand 
pounds over the funeral of a near relative, and such 
funerals are constant sights of interest to the traveller, 
on account of the procession of huge symbolical demon 
figures, which are afterwards burnt, preceding them, 
and the hundreds of white-robed m^ourners by which 
the body is accompanied. The wife of a wealthy China- 
man has jewels the daughter of an American millionaire 
might envy, his son is sent to Europe to be educated, 
and no one is ashamed of the fact that the founder of 
the family fortune probably came to Java forty years 
before a penniless coolie. 

The sporting instincts of the Chinaman are as fully 
developed as his business keenness. The proprietor of the 
yadoya I had previously stopped in took me to a cock- 
fight that morning. Legally the sport is forbidden; 
practically the law is a dead-letter. I found that the 
Chinese had relatively huge bets on some of these con- 
tests, and that all the details of the fights are worked 
out with scientific exactitude. The birds are carefully 
dieted for months beforehand ; they have regular baths, 
and a systematic course of massage to strengthen the 
muscles of their legs and wings for the contest. They 
are matched according to age and weight, or sometimes 

323 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

by a system of handicapping whereby the weaker bird 
has its steel spurs for fighting fastened further up the 
leg, the higher up the spur the more deadly being the 
stroke. 

The cock-pit was a circle of hard ground about ten feet 
in diameter, around the edges of which three rows 
of squatting Chinamen were assembled. Inside the ring 
a portly person was seated on a red silk cushion. This 
was the umpire. A number of birds were brought into 
the ring, each in a banana-leaf cage, its head, shorn of its 
comb, projecting from one end, its tail from the other. 
Each bird was taken out by his owner, and several of 
them were passed round and felt by the connoisseurs. 
Finally the umpire selected two of approximately equal 
strength, and after they had been armed, their owners 
holding them, they were allowed to peck at one another 
once or twice. Then at a signal from the umpire they 
were released. With a flapping of wings they were at 
one another in an instant. It was all very rapid and 
exciting. Once they jammed their beaks together, 
heads outstretched, but for the most part it was a 
whirling circle of feathers, legs, and dust. Then, quite 
unexpectedly, it was over; a chance stroke with the 
sharp steel spur, and one of the combatants had an eye 
gouged out. That settled him ; he made a blinded rush, 
but the other had him at his mercy, and the owners 
rushed in, a sarong cloth was dropped over each bird, 
and the fight was over. 

The spectators sat all the while impassive. They 
might have been miles away, judging from their apparent 
lack of interest. 

Nevertheless some had lost heavily, others had gained 
equally heavily, but to the uninitiated it was not 
possible to determine which was which. 

There were more fights to follow, but I was due at 
824 



BATAVIA 

the Hotel Der Nederlanden by this time to meet the 
" Old Man," and be initiated into the mystery of the 
" rijst-tavel " (rice-table). 

The " rijst-tavel " is a thing to be approached with 
awe, and described with the gourmandising enthusiasm 
of a Sala. It is unique. There is nothing like it any- 
where else — it is the proud distinction of Java to have 
invented the "rijst-tavel." The returned Hollander 
thinks of it with longing retrospective memories ; when 
seated in his beloved " Warmoestraat" restaurant he 
remembers he can have it no more. It is the one thing 
the loss of which he deplores. 

Imagine a long wide colonnaded loggia open on three 
sides so that between the columns one could see scarlet, 
white, and purple flowering shrubs and the slender 
stems of the tropical palms in the garden without. 
This was the dining- hall, and here, after the luxury of 
a bath, clad in spotless ducks, the " Old Man " and I 
found ourselves seated at a little table, assembled with 
some eighty to a hundred others, to partake of the 
mystery. 

First of all a waiter brought us each a mountainous 
plate of rice. This acts as the foundation, so to speak, 
of the meal. Chicken is added to this, and then the 
ceremony begins. 

First one waiter approaches, holding in his hands a 
big circular blue china tray divided into a dozen or so 
compartments, each containing some different comes- 
tible. There were compartments with bits of fish, dry, 
shredded, and raw, slices of duck, beef in little buttons, 
curries, chutneys, spices, cocoanut chips. 

Waiter followed waiter in procession to our table. 
Each seemed to have an array of things different from 
his predecessors ; pickles, salted almonds, grated Par- 
mesan, slices of egg, slices of fried banana, young palm- 

325 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

shoots — ^they kept on coming. Then there were the 
" sambals." A sambal is anything made up fiery-hot 
with cayenne pepper — bits of buried liver kept till almost 
deliquescent, fish-roe, sweetbreads, mysterious things 
to which no name could be put. They kept on coming. 
The "Old Man" kept sampling each new supply; 
the people around seemed all to be doing likewise. 
It was immense. Gargantuan. 

" I shall die if I attempt to investigate any further," 
I said in despair. 

" It's a noble death," said the " Old Man " cheer- 
fully, as he helped himself to the twentieth — or was it 
the thirtieth ? — dish. All this had to be eaten with a 
spoon and fork, and towards the end I gave up in 
despair. The " Old Man " went on steadily. 
" You get used to it in time," he said. 
Every one else seemed, indeed, to be quite used to it, 
but eventually I had to strike. 

To my astonishment, however, a course of meat and 
salad followed, which the habitues attacked with 
renewed vigour. This in its turn was succeeded by 
dessert and coffee. 

" Have some coffee. Doc. ? " said the " Old Man." 
*' No, thanks," I murmured feebly. 
A gentle languor was stealing over me. I watched 
as in a dream the fat Dutchwomen eating — eating — • 
eating. 

" You'll be all right when you've had a sleep," said 
the " Old Man." 

I feebly assented; it was with difficulty already I 
could keep my eyes open, I felt the wings of sleep 
wooing me with an irresistible fascination. 

The guests were by this time beginning to leave the 
hall. It was the hour of the siesta, and every one 
was going to their rooms to sleep off the effects of the 
326 



BATAVIA 

debauch, for there is something in the " rice-table " which 
irresistibly woos one to slumber, and this is probably 
one of the reasons for its immense popularity. 

The " Old Man " rose slowly with a sigh of satisfaction. 

" I don't feel at all hungry now," he said. 

I could not even smile in response. 

Slowly we went to our room, very cool, stone-floored, 
with plain white-washed walls, devoid of all furniture 
except two great mosquito-curtained beds and some 
cane-bottomed chairs. 

In three minutes I was sound asleep. 

It seemed but a few minutes afterwards when we vv^ere 
again wakened. The silent-footed Malay boy had 
entered and called the " Old Man," who in his turn 
had shouted to me that tea was ready. I looked at 
my watch and found to my surprise that, like every one 
else in the hotel, we had been asleep three hours, and 
it was now half-past four. I also found that my 
appetite had returned, and the tea and biscuits were 
delicious. 

We had another bath and dressed. Then we took a 
carriage and drove round Weltevreden (New Batavia), 
the garden city originated by the great Marshal 
Dandaels, the Napoleon of Java. 

Imagine a city in which every house is hidden in a 
garden of its own, so that one imagines one is all the 
time in the country, and this city surrounding an 
immense open space of park-land several miles square, 
and one can have some idea of the effect Weltevreden 
makes on a stranger. Truly it is a dream city of delight, 
with this great square, " Koningsplein," lined with 
immense rows of kanari and waringen trees, and its 
beautiful classic columned houses buried in masses of 
orchids, palms, and Madagascar flame trees. 
We drove past the residence of the Governor-General 

327 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

and stopped for a little at the great Batavian 
museum, with its wonderful collection of Malay works 
of art, its priceless native manuscripts, its relics of 
the old Dutch East India Company, and, what to us 
as Britishers was more interesting still, the greater 
part of the collections of Captain Cook. 

Two things particularly impressed themselves on my 
memory that pleasant afternoon. One was a wall, 
dark and forbidding, enclosing a neglected, ruinous 
garden. On the wall was a grim carving of a man's 
skull impaled on a great spike, underneath which was 
inscribed on a tablet let into the masonry : — 

" This is to perpetuate the horrid memory of Pieter Elberfelt, 
traitor to his comitry. It is for ever forbidden to plant or 
build upon this spot. 

" Batavia, 14th April, 1722." 

Such is the memorial raised to the half-caste Dutch- 
man who in 1722 formed a conspiracy with a number 
of Mohammedans, Javanese, and Chinese fanatics to 
treacherously murder every Christian in Batavia on 
one dread night, and so free Java from the hated rule 
of the " Orang-blanda " for ever. 

All the plans were fully arranged, the day appointed, 
everything was ready, not one of the unsuspecting 
victims had the vaguest thought of danger — and then, 
three days before the appointed night, a native woman, 
to save the life of an officer whom she loved, told. 

There was an awful panic. Women barricaded them- 
selves in with their children and wept in an agony, men 
grew savage in the grip of fear and fell on the innocent as 
well as the guilty. The arch-traitor was captured. He 
was tortured horribly, tortured till he begged for death. 
His limbs were lopped o:K before he was decapitated. 
His house was razed to the ground, his head stuck on 
828 



BATAVIA 

a spike on his own garden wall, his body quartered 
and exposed in different places to the four winds of 
heaven ; and on the following Sunday a solemn " thanks- 
giving service " was held in the little old church close 
by. That was how they dealt with traitors in the 
" good old days." 

The other thing I remember was an immense old 
cannon lying on the esplanade of what had once been 
the castle of Batavia. It is said to be of Portuguese 
origin, and bears a Latin inscription — " From my ashes 
I shall rise again." It is held in great veneration by 
the Malaj^s and Chinese, offerings of rice and flowers 
being daily placed before it. It is especially worshipped 
by women who long for a son to rescue them from the 
reproach of sterility — a curious example of phallic 
suggestion. 

When we got back to Tanjong Priok we found the 
quays swarming with people, for the packet-boat had 
just arrived from Rotterdam. A regiment of soldiers 
were being landed, and, forming up on the quays, were 
looking, with the round eyes of curiosity, at the bare- 
footed, yellow-uniformed Malay policemen with their 
brass swords, and the multi-coloured crowd of natives. 
Chinamen, and white-clad Europeans. 

During om* day in Batavia the officers had discovered 
a Dutch cafe near the ship, and here I found them with 
the doctors of the other two ships of the company in 
port. The Chief, as usual, was the centre of the party. 
He was in hilarious spirits, and said his leg was all 
right. 

That night, however, he became delirious, and on insist- 
ing on examining it I found it frightfully swollen. Next 
day he was very little better, and every one on the ship 
was gloomy in consequence. To make things worse, of 

329 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

course, two Chinamen took the opportunity of burning 
themselves about the face and arms rather badly, through 
allowing a furnace-door to be improperly fastened. 

It was distressingly close — not a breath of air stirred. 
The heat was sweltering, and every one moped. Without 
the Chief, somehow, no one seemed inclined to think 
of amusement. I busied myself taking photographs 
in the immediate neighbourhood of Tanjong Priok. 
Once I elaborately stalked a policeman, to find, after 
painfully manceuvring to get him into a good light, 
that he was itching to have himself snapshotted all 
the time, and so my wariness had all been unnecessary. 
He posed himself delightedly, pulling his sword well 
round to the front, and then demanded " comshaw." A 
cigarette completely satisfied him. 

Once the Customs stopped me with the camera, sus- 
pecting I was carrying concealed opium. 

We were told the first European port we should 
call at, homeward bound, would be Marseilles, and so 
began to change our Dutch money into French, and 
commenced to wish longingly for the day when we 
should get the orders for departm'e. 

Everybody was getting ragged in temper; even the 
" Old Man " complained of the heat, though he spent 
nearly all his time in Batavia. With the Chief in the 
state he was I did not care to go off enjoying myself, 
and so I too was cooped up in the lagoon. 

Then some one suggested that Wang-Chu had poisoned 
the Chief, and immediately, such was the irritable state 
of our minds, every one jumped to the conclusion that 
this idea was correct, and an expedition to " bash up " 
Wang-Chu was organised on the spot. It was the 
unstable state of every one's nerves that suggested it, 
and the feverish ennui of enforced inactivity that 
stimulated the hurry to retaliate. 
380 




A WAV?-!1)K TKMPLE 




A BAMBOO RAFT GOIXG BOWX A CREEK, TAX JONG PRIOK 



BATAVIA 

I half-believed it myself, though in my inner mind 
I knew it was a chimera of our excited imaginations, 
and so had to force myself to oppose the idea vehemently, 
covering it with as much ridicule as possible, otherwise 
they would have smashed up the whole place and 
Wang-Chu at the same time. 

The idea of revenge was abandoned accordingly, and 
we sank into a lethargy of waiting again. 

It was on the next evening just before dinner — we 
were sitting smoking on deck — that the Mate turned to 
me and said, " I'm dead sick of this rotten lagoon." 

I nodded understandingly. 

" Tally-clerks been worse than usupJ ? " I said. 

" No, it's not that. I want to get home, to get away 
from all this. I've just had a letter. I've got a daughter." 

He jumped up hastily before I could say anything, 
answering an imaginary call, half-ashamed he had said 
anything, and too shy to feel comfortable after he had 
said it. 

A few minutes later the " Old Man " came puffing 
up the ladder. He had just come down from Batavia. 

" You're looking very white. Doc. Guess this place 
don't suit you. Eh ! You'll be glad to hear we're off 
to-morrow." 

" Jolly glad," I answered promptly. 

Every one of the crew must have been feeling much 
the same as myself, for the news seemed to spread like 
wildfire through the ship, and half an hour later we 
heard some one strike up the old farewell shanty from 
the fo'castle : 

" Our anchor we'll weigh, and our sails we will set. 
Good-bye ! Fare ye well ! 
Good-bye ! Fare ye well ! 
The friends we are leaving we'll never forget. 
Hurrah, my lads ! We're homeward bound." 
• • * • • 

381 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

So on the morrow we left our moorings at Tanjong 
Priok and steamed out amongst the flag-dipping 
cruisers. 

A battleship target -firing off Idam Island sig- 
nalled us to keep clear of the line, and we leant over 
the rail listening to the reports and watching the holes 
ripped in the floating target, blissfully conscious of the 
cool breezes that played about our heated brows, 
knowing that all the time they were converting our 
cabins from sweltering heat -traps to cool wind-swept 
havens of delight, innocent of mosquitoes, fit again for 
human habitation. 

We watched the Bubi light winking at us at 8 p.m., 
and at half-past one in the morning I was wakened 
to see the site of Krakatoa (scene of the awful eruption 
of 1883) lit up by frequent flashes of silent lightning 
as we passed. 

" That's the last you'll see of Java. Say ' Salamat ' 
[farewell], Doc. ! " said the " Old Man," and, standing 
on the bridge- deck there in the middle watch in the 
starlight, I did so. I raised my cap reverently to 
Krakatoa, to the country, to the people, and to the 
memories I had acquired amongst them. 

" SALAMAT " 



332 



EPILOGUE 



EPILOGUE 

Sometimes a weariness of London comes over me, 
and I feel that I would give almost anything to be on 
the high seas again. There are certain days and certain 
things that cause this feeling. 

Sometimes it is only the misery of a cold raw day 
that sets me thinking. Often I get it crossing one of 
London's bridges when the tide is in and the salt tang 
strikes upon one's nostrils. Sometimes it is casually 
seeing in the Shipping Intelligence the name of my old 
ship that sets me o:ff. 

As a rule I try to avoid such thoughts. They are 
disconcerting, they confuse one's issues, they are not 
part of a well-ordered life. But they are difficult 
to get away from even when one tries. Once I 
went into a chemist's shop in Bond Street for some- 
thing. As I entered the faint odour of " kananga " 
leaves struck my nostrils, and immediately I was back 
as in a vision on the ship and saw the low-lying beach 
of Cheribon and the lateened praus around the ship as 
I lay in my chair listening to the monotonous " amma- 
ti-ra-ta-huh " of the coolies swinging bales of Java sugar 
in the hold. 

Then a suave voice said, " What can I get you, sir ? " 
and I was back again in London. 

Once, a year later, I saw the ship's name amongst 
the arrivals at the Royal Albert Docks, and made a 
special pilgrimage to see her. I knew her ugly old 

335 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

hull amongst them all long before I could read her 
name. 

The Chief was standing on the saloon-deck when I 
climbed aboard. 

" Hello," he said quite casually, as if I had just come 
up from my cabin. 

" Hello," I answered. 

There was a milkman standing near, and the Chief 
continued the conversation I had interrupted. 

" How much milk did you say you had left us ? " 

" A quart, sir." 

" A quart ! " the Chief echoed in surprise. " That's 
not nearly half enough. There's five men in the mess. 
Bring up all you've got." 

The man departed, and we gravitated, as was natural, 
to his cabin, and were soon deep in reminiscences. They 
had been to Port Arthur, and he had been arrested 
as a German spy, for some unknown reason, by the 
Japs, and had had quite a bother getting off. He was 
telling me all about it when a tap came to the door. 

" I've done it, sir," said a voice. It was the milkman. 

" Done what ? " said the Chief. 

" Brought up all I've got." 

*' How much ? " said the Chief. 

" Eight gallons, sir." 

" Holy Moses ! " said the Chief. Then he laughed, 
" Doc, you'll have to stay all night and help us use 
it up." 

" Better send it across as a present to the hospital," 
I suggested. 

It never occurred to either of us to ask the milkman 
to take it back, as of course he would ; and so the 
hospital authorities got it, and no doubt wondered 
who on earth sent such a curious gift. 

" When are you coming back to us ? " he said casually. 
836 



EPILOGUE 

" To-morrow if I could," I answered promptly. 
" But " 

" I know," he said. " It's a good thing for you. Doe., 
there is a ' but.' I was like that once. I could have 
broken off after the first voyage or two, but I thought 
I'd stay two years and then take a shore billet. I had 
a good one offered me — manager in a cotton-mill — 
better pay, better everything — ^but I couldn't do it. 
I tried it for a month. It was no good. You're much 
the same as me. Doc. ; and I can tell you you've just 
got out in time." 

" D'ye remember what you said to me at the beginning 
of the voyage when we were going out from Liverpool ? " 

" Lord, no. I say such a lot of rubbish. What 
was it ? " 

" We were leaning over the rail, and you said you were 
always glad to get back to England, and always glad 
to get away again. When you were in the East you 
were sorry for the poor devils who had to live there, 
and knew they were envying you all the time they were 
talking to you of home. You said that when one passed 
the ' Rock,' homeward bound, one counted the hours 
till one got to England ; and when one had been there 
a fortnight, and seen the people that mattered, one was 
itching to be off again — off to the long calm days, the 
quiet of the deck, the hot kiss of the tropical sun, the 
soft velvet of the tropical night, the warmth of colour 
and costume denied one's eyes in Puritan England. 
You told me I should know and feel it all. I want 
to tell you now that I do — every bit of it — and 
more." 

The Chief nodded quietly : "I know, old chap." 

There are some lines modified from an American poet 
which express it better than anything else I know. 
They are : 

Y- 337 



THE SURGEON'S LOG 

" They have cradled you in custom, they have primed you with their 

preaching. 
They have soaked you in convention, through and through. 
They have put you in a show-case ; you're a credit to their teaching — 
But can't you hear the East, — it's calling you. 
Let us probe the silent places, let us seek what luck betide us ; 
Let us journey to a sunny land I know. 
There's a whisper in the night wind, there's a star agleam to guide 

us ; 
And the East is calling, calling, — let us go." 



So the Pathologist and I sit opposite one another, 
with our feet on the mantel, smoking many pipes ; 
and sometimes when he is particularly aggravating I 
try to tell him of what he has missed. 

Sometimes he hears the " Red Gods " calling, and 
then he gets uneasy, and says, " If it's as good as all 
that, why the deuce don't you go back ? " 

But as a rule he merely grunts, and shifts the con- 
versation to theories of immunity. 

We are getting more and more guinea-pigs. I hate 
them, but habit is gradually dulling that. I have often 
threatened to leave him, but he knows I do not mean 
it ; for if I did he would be compelled to marry 
some one who would remember to send his things 
to the laundry. Then I should be without a friend of — 
I decline to think how many years, and Science would 
have lost one of her most enthusiastic votaries. So I 
remain. 

FINIS 










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